Beyond the Seventh Circle
by Amelie Gray
Summary: Gift!fic for YellowGlue. "He looked down and watched as her toes curled nervously in their rainbow-striped socks, and he knew right away he shouldn't trust her." Rating because I am paranoid.
1. He watched as her toes curled

**So the other day on Twitter, I was asking if anyone wanted me to write them a prompt fic. (Yes, I am generous, I know...) YellowGlue (my beta/sweetie---check her out!) responded with the first sentence of this o/s. ****Of course, one...one-shot isn't enough for this girl. She wants more. *glares in YellowGlue's direction* So, I will try to add on to this.**

**What is the lesson learned from this? If you aren't following me on Twitter, you're missing out on generosity. :p**

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He looked down and watched as her toes curled nervously in their rainbow-striped socks, and he knew right away he shouldn't trust her.

She was a small girl. Her round face still held the slight chubbiness of childhood, despite her brown eyes, deep and dark and wise. She looked like she still wanted her mother's lap and was doted on by her father, and he wondered about her, and the fact that she was standing here with him in a darkened stairway, clicking her Mary Janes against the dirty tiles and biting her plump lower lip.

"The usual fee---nothing more, nothing less," he told her, averting his gaze from her translucent skin and the blue veins pulsing beneath the bright pink of her blush. He had not eaten in days, and the rush of her blood was more tempting than anything he could have imagined. The familiar burn, deep and cutting, set into his throat, and he found that in spite of the fetid air, he couldn't breathe.

She said nothing.

"Jasper did tell you what to expect?"

His voice was sharper now, impatient. Everyone who knew him knew that he didn't waste time. Everything was exact, the hands of the clock snipping away at the moments of his unlimited existence with the exact precision of the Fates' scissors.

He had no time to waste on humans, much less this foolish, grubby, virtueless child with another man's marks on her arms and the scent of blood floating from between her thighs.

It was a hypocritical thought, but one that couldn't not be expected from him. He stood there, watching her peel away the yellow strands of itchy wool barely holding itself together as a sweater, his eyes lingering hungrily on the elegant swan-like curve of her neck.

She was used to this, by now. She didn't cry out as his teeth sank into the giving flesh. She didn't even sigh. It bothered him, but he lapped at the blood, letting it flow down his dry throat and nourish his body, even as it deprived her.

It should have tipped him off, the fact that she was so quiet, the way her eyes stared vacantly past his animalistic glare. She hadn't answered his question. The blood pooled in his mouth, sweet like strawberries, and he couldn't pull himself away. It was cloying, drugging him with the sensation of warm milk in a baby's stomach.

He didn't fight when the strong arms yanked him from behind. She still stared at him, red streams flowing down her neck, with that blank look in her face. Someone was taking a white cloth and dabbing at her neck.

"You did well."

They weren't alone anymore on the staircase. Hands surrounded him from all sides, gripping him, fiery hands on stone flesh. It didn't hurt, but the burn did. Her scent surrounded him, permeating every layer of his sensitive nose. He lunged forward, blinded by instinct, barely able to hear the cries around him.

"Keep a grip on him."

"Damn bloodsucker…too busy gorging himself to even notice what's going on around him, huh?"

"Bella, move out of the way, sweetheart. This one's a wild one."

Those brown eyes still stared so patiently into his, blank and open, holding nothing in her gaze but keeping everything away from his mind's touch.

He couldn't hear her.

And that should have tipped him off in the first place.


	2. BPOV The Aftermath

**BPOV**

His name was Edward, and he was a mind reader.

I watched as my brothers bound him, his wild red eyes focused on mine. The spindly fingers of his power poked and prodded at my shield, begging me to let him in, to find out my secrets and make them his as well.

He was nothing new to me. I had seen others similar to him, far less powerful but also chained by their gifts. And I had caught them. Edward might have been influential in his world, but in my hands, tempted by my blood, he had turned into nothing less than a common drunkard – just like all the rest.

I held no bitterness toward him, though. I had no means to; my parents were not killed by his race. In the darkness of the night, no cold hands had held me down and stole my maidenhood, leaving me broken and hollow and yearning for bittersweet revenge against all who thirsted for blood. None of the endless clichés and myths about the overlapping vampire and human worlds applied to me.

My role in the pack was for the sake of my brothers, and that was all.

They dragged Edward down into the dark, as he turned and tossed and flashed his white teeth. I no longer watched. The numb of the adrenaline was fading from my veins, and the bite on my neck was finally starting to burn like liquid fire.

The hand that patted the washcloth against my neck paused.

"Are you alright, sis?"

I didn't answer. My limbs shook underneath me, as though my body rested all its weight on thin pins. There was a curse, and then warm arms gently guided me to sit down on the hard floor. I didn't protest. There was no room for bravado in my weakened body.

"You let him take too much," Sam scolded. My eyes were closed. I could not see his expression, but I knew that he was angry. I wasn't supposed to take the job tonight, but no one else had been able to take my place. The past week's lineup had drained me of nutrients, and my blood hadn't been replenished. If the bloodsucker had taken more than he had, I would be dead.

Of course, that was not completely my fault.

I opened my eyes, watching as Sam fumbled on the dirty tiles with the First-Aid kit. It was small and white, just the basic necessities you needed after being enjoyed by a vampire like a bottle of Cognac by a homeless drunk. It was awkward in his large russet fingers. When our gazes met, I smiled weakly at him and beckoned a finger.

With a sigh, he relinquished the box to me.

"All right…"

We sat there together, watching anxiously as the syringe depressed and the painkillers swarmed into my vulnerable bloodstream. The pain of the needle was nothing to me. In my past life, a life when I did not know of rendezvous in abandoned buildings slated for demolition, or fangs that slid into skin like a knife into warm butter, I would have cringed away from the idea of giving myself a shot. Now, it was like second nature.

My eldest brother looked down the staircase anxiously. We had no haste to leave; there was no one in the building, no one to question a group of seven red-skinned brothers and with one pale sister with blood stains on her sweater, and a man with matching red lips and violent eyes.

It was in Sam's nature to worry though. He cared for all of us, was our father and leader.

The sound of loud footsteps echoed through the hallway as I bandaged my neck. I thought of the scar that would be there in the morning, a crescent-shaped mark of another vampire etched against my skin for eternity. But for now, I was pulled away from my thoughts by the arrival of my brothers, victorious and sweaty as they thronged around me.

"Bella!"

"God, he put up a fight…you should've seen it."

"Seth, will you shut the fuck up about the fight? Bella, how do you feel?"

And then, there was the voice I dreaded hearing.

"Bella…what on Earth were you thinking?"

Like a school of frightened fish, my well-wishers scattered to the sides of the hallway, clearing the way for the speaker as he stepped forward into the dim light. Sam, looking appeased, moved to the side and quietly repacked the kit. He knew who the true Alpha was.

Everything about him oozed power, a different flavor from the mind-reading vampire, one of brawn instead of brains. His muscles seemed as though they were packed one on another, and his cold brown eyes flashed with authority and confidence.

Jacob Black, the last person I wanted to see, at this time, in this moment.

I turned my eyes away from him to Sam, even though I knew that he would not offer any help in this moment. His eyes were turned to the ground, and if I didn't know him better, I would suspect a smile playing around his thin lips.

Around me my brothers formed a circular wall, protecting me against the outside world and the vampire that languished somewhere below in the inky black, but still unwilling to step in and diffuse the fire I could see in Jacob's eyes.

I raised myself laboriously to my feet, my eyes back on his as I began to sign.

_I was doing my job, Jacob. And it's none of your business._

He didn't like my defiance. His eyes flashed and his fingers tensed against his side.

"You got hurt in the process."

His eyes flashed from mine to Sam's, noting the kit in our elder brother's hands. I didn't answer, but when his eyes flashed to the onlookers, I rolled my eyes angrily at Sam. He lowered his head completely.

I was sure he was smiling now.

I was definitely was not. Jake took me possessively by the arm, his lips pressed flat in his face, and our brothers filed behind us. The scent of blood and sweat and death lingered in our wake, and I knew that this conversation is not over. I knew that I lived on a thin thread that unraveled every day, with every pair of cold lips against my neck or the grip of warm fingers around my wrist.

Tonight was a catalyst.

And I know that tomorrow, I will start to see its consequences.


	3. EPOV The Hunter, Trapped

**Finally, another update!**

**This chapter took a lot of typing, re-typing, Delete key action, and copious amounts of radio. Consider yourself lucky I didn't go mad in the process.**

**A nod to Bram Stoker, for giving us the world's most famous (well, he was) vampire, Dracula, and Stephenie Meyer for giving us our favorite vampire, Edward, and Charlene Harris for giving the world Eric, because his devil-may-care attitude inspired me for this Edward.**

**A big, wet MWAH to YellowGlue, mi amor and grammar police. Girl, you rock.**

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The spell was broken.

He could still taste her, though, on his tongue, coating his teeth in a thin film. It was cloying, thick strawberries and salt, sweet and bitter all at the same time. He had never thought of a blood type as his 'favorite' before, in the way that a human would choose a type of soda. Blood was to him like petroleum was to a car; useful, but absolutely tasteless---something that was needed to run, to survive on, but not lingered on and savored.

But her blood was different.

It was smooth, and thick, and he had closed his eyes and sucked it in like air. It had drugged him---yes, that was the only term suitable for it. It had clouded his mind and his senses, completely blindsiding him to what would happen next.

He hated himself for closing his eyes and licking his lips to experience it again. But he couldn't help it.

Of course, not even the strange blood of the human girl could distract him from the situation he found himself in now. The cellar that the throng of warm hands and hooting voices had deposited him into was unbreakable. He had tested it, throwing himself again and again towards the crumbling gray stone. It had held.

It was too late to scold himself for being completely foolish. He had disregarded coven feeding protocol, leaving alone on the words of a stranger, into a part of the world he was hardly familiar with. Of course, being Edward Cullen would have thwarted any would-be attackers of his own race. There weren't many who lacked the brains to actually think of assaulting a Cullen, and surviving the encounter.

The young men hadn't been human. It was one thing he was sure of, and it was something that made him nervous. There were other things out there, things that humans believed were fantasy, but to a vampire could be all too real. The idea of not knowing his captors worried him.

There was a smell in the air, permeating the hard cement floor under his boots– sweaty young men, a cloud of teenage hormones that clouded his nose with the same pseudo-manhood of their owners, but something else – the smell of wet dog.

He knew about the legends of the creatures that prowled the earth during the Full Moon, but the opinion of most was that the Volturi had banished the beasts to extinction long ago.

He hung his head, sucked the fading flavor from his teeth, and closed his eyes to face the facts.

There was no other word for it.

Edward Cullen was trapped…

…Miles away from his coven, he was caged by stone and a pack of possible vampire-killers, without any probable escape.

As if there wasn't enough to worry over, and do a little personal ass-kicking for, his mind kept returning to the girl.

How did she fit in all of this, with the little school-girl shoes, the ugly sweater, the blank look of complete willingness?

Was she willing?

Without even thinking about it, he was pacing, tramping over until he could touch one mildewed wall, before he did a sharp about face and turned around again. It was better than sitting on the floor like an old human man and worrying about everything and nothing in particular.

The girl fascinated him.

Her blood, for one thing, was something that he still couldn't seem to grasp. He still lusted for the taste, the same way a drunkard would reach for a beer even with a full stomach. Even without the aid of a mirror, the warmth surging through his body told him he could stave off for weeks. _Good thing_, he realized, considering his current predicament.

But to still want the blood after the need was gone…was worrisome.

And then there was her mind. That was worrisome too.

Edward had passed over 'voids' before. There was the stray odd one, a human with a completely blank slate of a mind that, try as he might, couldn't be read. Most times, the person was insane – or brain dead. There weren't many other instances to be compared to. Silences in a human brain were like pauses between conversation: few and far between.

No human could keep their mouth – or their mind, for that matter – completely silent for too long.

But then, there were the other ones, the rare gems hidden under the other trifles that Edward dealt with everyday. It would be a human, innocent on the outside, and usually weaker physically than most; however, underneath the façade, there was something more.

Edward closed his eyes, and saw brown.

_Those brown eyes still stared so patiently into his, blank and open, holding nothing in her gaze but keeping everything away from his mind's touch._

He couldn't hear her.

But he would.

He was going to learn everything about her…and then, he was going to crush in that little skull so those brown eyes wouldn't open again.

_She wasn't going to be one of the gifted._

_ She wasn't going to be used against me._

_ Not this time._


	4. BPOV Curiosity

**Yes, finally, another update! In case you were wondering, this story finally has a playlist. You can find it on my blog: ameliegray (dot) blogspot (dot) com. I warn you: it's very...pink.**

**Dedicated as always with hugs and kisses to my Yoda, YellowGlue. Check out her story, Rose Like Thunder - Snideward is so freaking hot. **

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**BPOV**

It was raining outside. I leaned in the doorway, taking in the smell of dampened concrete and revived earth, and let myself remember.

Memories were a rare, and coveted, treasure among us in the pack. We, who had found, and lost, most especially, knew how easily memories faded with time; rubbing away between eager fingers like the engraved face of a penny. It was hard enough for me; unique of the collective pack mind, and with my shield, not sharing my thoughts with others who could help me remember.

I could remember the rain though. I remembered summer afternoons on the open porch drowned in raindrops and tears, resting in my mother's lap as she combed through my hair. The old radio played softly in the background, a song about heartache, rainy days and Mondays.

I could remember my mother crying.

It was the last day I ever saw her.

The rain in the city was different from the thick Olympian showers I was accustomed to. Here, I could not walk out into the light, dancing in the puddles and the occasional flare of a pair of headlights.

Here, I wasn't safe.

There was a soft moan, and then a sigh. I turned slowly, just in time to catch a flash of naked cinnamon skin as the last of the pack rose from the pile of furs cast over the apartment floor. We all slept in a tangled heap of limbs and hair, taking comfort in the fact that we were together.

Unity was strength.

However, the fact that the Quileute took pride in being less than modest was a snag I had never adjusted to. My siblings saw it as an adorable quirk that I preferred to sleep in pajamas – like normal humans – rather than embracing nudity. After all, none of it was anything they hadn't seen before.

I felt the familiar flush rising in my cheeks, casting my eyes away as my sister yawned, raising her arms over her head. The boys had left for the day, stumbling groggily, shoving and cursing as they marched barefoot down the stairs for patrol. Regardless of their presence, I knew that Leah would have cared less. She was Sam's, but she enjoyed more than one pair of eyes when she rose in the morning.

"It's wet outside. You'll catch cold."

Silently, I stepped away from the doors as she slid them shut, reluctantly allowing the glass to separate me from my past. Leah was dressed now, wrapped haphazardly in an old bathrobe that smelled of coffee and nail polish. She smiled cautiously; patting my shoulder like sheer glass as she passed by.

Leah never knew how to handle me. She was one of the boys, plus estrogen and curves, short-cut hair and lean muscles that rippled under her silky skin. I owed my life to her, in more than one way that not even the boys knew about. When we spoke to each other, it was awkward, hovering between blatant hostility and cold indifference.

I was weak. Leah wasn't. It was the rift that would always be between us.

I followed in her wake, watching as she drew the blinds; sinking us both in a faint, gauzy darkness. She curled up on the couch, and I sat next to her knee, taking the offered plate of cold eggs without complaint.

"Jacob cooked for you this morning," she said softly. "Don't be surprised if there's not enough salt."

I lowered my eyes to the plate, making sure she couldn't see when I rolled them. Leah and I were relatives, in both the ties of marriage and blood, but her loyalties lay with the man that I resented above all others. She loved Sam, but Jacob was her soul mate, in every sense of the word.

But, in Jacob's eyes, I was his, and I suddenly realized that there was more than one reason that my sister and I weren't closer.

_Jacob tries too hard_, I signed, not meeting her eyes, sighing as I let the fork break the surface of the egg. Watery yellow yolk splattered over the blue ceramic as the rain tapped against the thin glass of the doorway. _Jacob tries too hard, and he doesn't listen._

Leah frowned, a crease forming between her thin eyebrows.

"He wants what is best for you, Bella. We all do."

I said nothing. I never did.

Dead baby chick essence oozed down the side of my leg and onto the hard floor.

"Being vampire bait for the rest of your life isn't how it's supposed to be for you. You've done your part, and it's enough. I know what the night routine is doing to you, Bella."

Leah's voice softened, and I didn't like it. It sounded of pity.

_Where is the bloodsucker?_ I asked, trying to steer the conversation out of dangerous waters. My sister knew me too well, and I didn't like it. _The one I caught last night?_

I didn't dare mention his name, even though it curled my fingers, trying to make its way out. If Leah told Sam I had eavesdropped on the elder's meeting, I'd be in more trouble than I could think of.

Leah's eyes narrowed, but she let the subject drop for the moment.

"In the cellar, like they always are. Foul bastard. He tried to take a nip of Seth when the boys shoved him in there."

I didn't respond. Unbidden, a memory rose: _white teeth…prodding fingers trying to grope at my shield…_

Foul bastard, indeed, but not one I'd tread lightly around. He had been snared in the web; like the others had, but something in his eyes as the boys had dragged him away – confusion, anger, hatred…

…But there was also determination.

A tremor went down my spine as I rose from my spot. Leah cocked her head; eyes still narrowed as she watched me, the hunting cat letting her prey stalk in between her waiting paws. I knew that I had to step lightly.

_I need to walk. The blood is sitting in my legs._

Her face instantly cleared, and I almost felt guilty for using my weak physique against her yet again. But, my curiosity pricked at me. I kept my face carefully blank as she studied me.

"Alright," she decided, leaning back on the sofa with a musing expression on her face. She looked ready to fall back into slumber, and that was enough to tell me I had time in my hands. "Just make sure you're back before the boys are. I don't want Jake biting my head off for letting you run loose in the building without supervision."

Jacob Black could go jump off a bridge for all I cared.

I nodded; trying to look appropriately meek, and scurried out of the apartment before she could call me back. Once I was a good distance down the hallway, I allowed my jogging to slow to a fast walk; letting my feet lead me towards where I needed to go.

The building was safe, at least for me. It was an old brownstone, slated for demolition until the elders had bought it out. It was boarded up; appearing like a suitable haven for druggies and runaways. The police steered clear of it, and – after a few hair-raising run-ins with the boys as they ran patrol – the unsavory locals were too frightened to take a step near it.

There was no one but us; a fact that Leah took advantage of by insisting that we "move house" every six months into a different apartment.

The cellar; of course, was reserved for different guests entirely.

I stepped down into the darkness of the lower staircase, making my way carefully along dirty tile and creaking wood. Once or twice, a stair had given under my feet, but there had always been a brother to catch me up before I tumbled downward, either to a broken neck, or into the arms of one of our house guests.

At the thought of the fierce red eyes that had stared into mine the previous evening, I almost turned back in the direction from which I'd come.

Things were different when you didn't have a pack of badass werewolves behind your back.

Still, though, something nipped at my heels, urging me down the spiral into the inky black. Curiosity killed the cat, but I had to examine the vampire whose own kind wanted him dead.

I was brought to a head by the large wooden door, still bearing the faded words, SU_ERINDE_TA_T O_LY. Tentatively, I pushed at the rotten wood, half-afraid of a creak that would bring Leah and the horde down on me like vengeful gods. Sam was _not _going to be happy about this, at all.

But, everyone understood that I had my own way of doing things.

The door led into the darkened chamber. Even though I could barely see, I knew where to put my feet; trailing around the mess of assorted vampire-hunting paraphernalia shoved haphazardly into the scalloped cabinet that once held aging wine bottles. When my foot touched against the iron bars, I quickly skittered backwards, trying to see inside, and keep as far away as possible at the same time.

The boys had assured me time and time again that the iron had been specially smelted, recast again and again into a hard edge that not even a vampire was able to destroy. But they hadn't been the ones to feel the icy twist of fingers on a pliable human wrist, the painful crack of bone and audible tear of skin as muscles gave and flesh shredded.

I had reasons to keep my distance.

As I drew closer to the bars, his smell; at first a faint waft of flora, vanilla and musk, gradually grew more tangible. I was drowning in it, an endless cloud of toxic gas that tried to overwhelm my senses and fog my judgment. It hadn't been as overpowering before, when my senses had been blurred by the adrenaline and the sting of the venom as it seeped through my torn pores. But now, it seemed to wrap itself around me like an invisible fist, closing off my windpipe.

I had never liked the sugary-sweet scent of vampires – it was like marzipan; delectable the first few bites, rich and rare, and then hard to choke down after another mouthful.

He wasn't visible at first. I could see the implications of lines, a blurred shape in the corner…and then he shifted, and the odd bronze hair glimmered in the barely-there light seeping from the door I'd slipped through, and I could make out a sharp jaw and clenched fists and narrowed red eyes.

He was glaring at me.

It might have been my imagination; already on edge at the idea of sneaking away from Leah, of Sam coming home with the crowd of them, sweaty and tense and smelling my scent trailing down, down, past the row of abandoned apartments waiting for a Leah Makeover and into the bowels of the monster's den. I knew how they would react –particularly, how Jacob would react. Unlike the rest of my brothers, Jake didn't have any qualms about giving me a few 'love taps' for disobeying his orders.

His glare might have been a trick of the light, another result of my poor human eyes casting shadows in the dark, gnarled hands creeping towards my ankles across the cement floor.

But he was staring straight at me, through me, with a piercing scowl that I felt stab through my heart. His fingers were clawing at my mind, trying to peel away the silky layer of protection, carelessly, painfully.

My heart was thumping; violently, a trainwreck echoing through the empty room, in my head, in his ears.

_This was wrong. Coming down here, disobeying my brother's orders, was dangerous, and foolish. I was wrong._

Edward wasn't one of the other ones; the easy-to-please, bent backwards and peeled off like a leech, still dazed and reeling from bloodlust and full bellies.

Then, he spoke.

I didn't hear what he told me, or the words he shouted – he shouted, loud, shattering cries that pierced my eardrums and made my heart shake. My feet were running; back up the stairs, pushing past the door and into the dim fluorescent light, until I was smashed into my sister, and her hands were running up and down my face, my body, my hair, like she was checking that I was completely whole, that Edward hadn't taken some part of me away for good.

She didn't shout at me.

We went back upstairs, into the apartment, and closed the door.

"You shouldn't have gone down there," Leah said, her lips pinched as she watched me huddle backwards into the couch, trying to shake off the fear that clung to my spine and made my body shudder, up and down, back and forth.

I didn't say anything.


	5. EPOV Contingency

**Just a quick reminder: this story is written for THE BEST beta/bestie/wonderful all-around person a girl could have in her life, YellowGlue. I don't know how I got so lucky to meet her.**

**(Love you, sweetie.)**

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Edward couldn't recollect much about his humanity.

Of course, that was hardly an anomaly in his kind. The venom seared away mortal imperfections and life's harsh treatment on a physical being – but it stole away the past as well. When he woke up, it was with the confused and blank mind of a newborn child, crying aloud without any idea of how or why it had come to exist.

He did remember some things, though: a gentle touch against soft, pliable skin; a billowing red kite against blue skies; laughing green eyes set over a wide mouth that offered wisdom and unconditional love. And the word that came to him now, gritty with disuse and shrouded in the thin fog that hid the boundary between the human remnants, and the vampire psyche.

"_Gentleman. Above all, you must be a gentleman."_

Edward had not been a gentleman for over a hundred years. It surprised him why he should remember that particular aspect of his childhood, now, in a dungeon surrounded by the stink of creatures that were less than human, and the fragrance of a girl that was much more – a girl that he had just screamed at and cursed like she was nothing more than a cheap whore loitering on a street corner.

Of course, there wasn't regret; a man without a heart couldn't feel the twinges of penitence.

Seeing her, though, had stirred more than weak human recollections. It had also reminded him of his original purpose: a contingency plan. There was an exit from this room, a way to leave the musk and dark and vulnerability behind, and rise like the phoenix, indestructible – and deadly.

He would wreak his havoc on the werewolves, dividing their numbers long enough to take the girl – alive, not dead. The idea of her still body, brown eyes vacantly staring upwards, surrounded by her own floral scent and sweet blood, was unbearably tempting.

But it could wait. He needed her alive, at least for now. Even a frail human like her could have her uses.

Burgeoned by his own need for revenge – or perhaps, the literal opium that he inhaled with every inward breath, he began to study his cell more closely. The walls and floor were layers of cold, raw stone, meshed together awkwardly, cracks beginning to form between the crumbling mortar and sealant of cement.

It was nothing that he couldn't handle, not with the right tools, and he cursed himself for letting the girl and the siren's song of her blood overpower his mental acumen.

The others would have noticed his disappearance by now. Even though Edward was known for his tendency to fly solo, his masters still expected prompt reports and as a hand-picked scout, his absence would stick out in the ranks of the Guard like a sore thumb.

They would be looking, and Edward would make sure that he, and the girl, would be right where they could be found.

As if to remind him things couldn't be that simple, the stink of dog wafted across his nose. His nostrils flared with disgust.

_Yes. The wolves._

For a moment, he almost imagined the touch of fiery skin against his limbs, twisting them backwards, threatening to snap them off like a child slowly breaking apart an insect, piece by piece.

The pack in particular, the hot-headed young man whose thoughts had screamed of the girl: touching her, kissing her, burning the remains of the vampire who had dared to suck on her porcelain skin, he would be a problem.

But of course, just like the cell that he was kept in, a wolf was nothing that Edward couldn't handle. One thing he had learned and could still remember was that victory always lay in dividing and conquering.

And so, he sat down, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips, and he waited patiently.


	6. BPOV Not My Dream

_If you didn't hear already, this story has a trailer on YT. Check it out here: http://www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=b_pbKOfz184_

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**BPOV**

I held off encountering him for as long as I could. As soon as I could stand on my wobbling legs, an uncertain frightened child trying to figure out whether or not it was safe to venture out from under her mother's skirts, a concerned Leah steered me to the bathroom and dumped me into a lake of Pomegranate Sunset and translucent bubbles.

I sat in the water, letting my skin prune and watched as the airy foam dwindled away into useless film coating the sides of the bathtub. Through the thin wood of the door, I could hear that my brothers had returned. There was boisterous laughter, and the occasional shout and a growl from Paul when someone's elbow flew the wrong way. There was the smell of pizza. They'd had a good run, and they were back home to celebrate.

I wasn't in the mood.

Jake knew I was avoiding him, but like me, he knew when he should draw back. When I finally came out, smelling like Bath and Body Works and wrapped up in a worn bathrobe, I could feel his eyes watching me, tracing my every step as I retreated into the kitchen under the excuse of helping Leah with arranging plates and serving slices.

The tension seemed to resonate through the small apartment. The boys joked and hammed it up, but somehow it felt forced. I caught Sam's eyes a few times as he watched me, a concerned expression on his face, and I knew he could feel it too.

Jake found the hole in my safety net as Leah and I gathered up the dirty plates to wash.

"Bella."

I froze, giving my sister a helpless glance. It was futile, though. She blinked at me, and then her face seemed to harden as she registered the situation, and turned her gaze to the wall.

I would receive no help from that corner.

His fingers closed around my wrist as he tugged me behind him, into the living room and towards the small bedroom. I could feel our brothers' eyes burning into my skin, but no one said anything. No one wanted to cross swords with the Alpha.

Not even Sam.

The bedroom was dark and cold. The air was thick and musty; since we slept in the living room, Leah had fashioned the bedroom into a small infirmary, and most of the time, our laundry.

Jake leaned against the door, a tall statue of russet clay with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes daring me to try and escape. I didn't bother to challenge his authority. With my eyes cast downwards, I made my way to the foot of the bed. Even if I had to listen, it didn't mean I couldn't have some distance away from him.

He got right to the heart of the matter.

"You're been disrespecting me, Bella."

I didn't look at him. His voice reverberated with pure, searing fury. The flesh across my face and hands seemed to burn with the unseen blaze. Slowly, my fingers moved, etching words into the air. I would speak, but I did not want to arouse the beast in him, the wolf that constantly moved underneath his skin waiting to burst free.

_I'm not part of the pack, Jacob. I respect your authority over the boys, but you have no power over me._

If anything, that made him more furious.

"You are my chosen," he snapped. "The bond between us cannot be ignored, Bella. You can't fight fate."

I could feel the tears pricking the sides of my eyes. No matter how long I stayed away from him, no matter how many nights I cried, praying for a day when I could look at the man in front of me and see my Jake – the Jake who was my best friend, who protected me when I was smaller, my personal sun – it always came back to this.

And it angered me.

_I'm not your imprint. There is no bond._

I almost expected at that moment, those words would be the catalyst to break free the monster and I would be nothing more than a pathetic pile of battered flesh, another casualty of the Quileutes' curse. He surprised me when he chose to ignore it.

"What you're doing right now is dangerous, Bella."

He reached forward for me, and I slid back further away from his touch. His fingers grazed the air above my knees, and I could see the anger flash in his eyes. The words still flowed from his lips, though, smooth and tempting, conjuring up visions of glory in my mind.

"You don't have to keep doing this, honey. All you have to do is say the word, and I'll get Sam to stop sending you on missions. I can take you away from here, back to Washington, and La Push, where people can watch over you while I do my job here. You can be safe, and happy, surrounded by people who love you. You won't have to worry about any filthy bloodsucker's teeth ending your life."

For a moment, I thought I could actually see it. Behind my eyelids, I could see the thick woods of Forks, the dark shapes of wolves – the ordained protectors – prowling the land, searching for intruders. Two dark-haired boys ran forward into the trees, calling out for their father.

And in that moment, I actually believed.

Jacob's voice had dropped into a soft, soothing whisper.

"We could have it all, baby girl. Just…trust me."

He reached out, and his hand scraped over my arm. Instantly, the moment faded. The room rushed back into focus around me. He was too close.

I yanked back, and when my hands moved to form my response, they were quick and angry.

_I'm not yours, Jake. You didn't choose me. That isn't my dream, not with you._

The warmth completely dissipated from the air around us. His eyes flashed, but then I could see the harsh mask fall back into place, and I knew that any chances of seeing _my Jacob_ were gone.

"You can't fight fate, Bella," he repeated coldly, and then he turned around and left.

The door clicked close behind him.

I leaned over the side of the bed and threw up.


	7. EPOV Weak Link

The first lesson every vampire learned was patience.

You needed patience to master the first maddening hours of birth – the overwhelming, scalding thirst lapping at your throat; the sudden onset of noise, the babble and screams and laughter and very essence of humanity that bled into your ears with the relentless onset of a broken record…and, if you were among the few cursed with what only a greedy connoisseur would title a "gift", you had to patiently expect the loss of your sanity.

Edward sat there; a grotesque caricature of a meditating Buddha, his hands folded in his lap. To all appearance – at least, to the untrained human eye – he appeared to be a statue, or at the very least, dead. It was something that had always come very easily to Edward: the absolute stillness; not having to shift your feet or shake out your fingers to get the blood moving through your veins.

The wait, however, was what he most enjoyed. It was the wait of a spider in the farthest corners of its web, watching as the flies, indolent and oblivious, hovered closer and closer to the hunter's trap.

The girl hadn't ventured back downstairs again. Edward tried to convince himself that this didn't irritate him.

To be honest, his plan might've been easier had his own ill temperament not chased her away, but there were other ways of reaching the objective without her presence.

She would be his in the end, anyway, to deal with as he pleased.

He had expected the wolves to forget him, locked away in the dank walls of mildewed stone. From the little he had read of their minds – loud, untamed speakers screaming of hate and pain and eternal agony – he had prepared himself for the worst.

The wolves were something that most vampires had heard of, but none truly believed in. It was ironic – the idea that mythical creatures, who themselves were thought of as old wives' tales by the humans that feared them, could so easily reject a phenomenon less incredible than them.

And now, Edward had proof.

Though the idea pleased him – being the first to prove the existence of the beasts of legend, bringing back proof to present to his Masters, and hopefully exulting in ascension of his rank – it also left him at a disadvantage on how to proceed through the pack's defenses. He had no knowledge of their weaknesses, nothing up his sleeve to aid him in the chance of a fight against the bared, dagger-like incisors.

And a fight, he was sure would occur sooner or later.

Of course, he didn't worry about that right then. When it would happen, it would happen. Not even an immortal could speed up time, or slow it down, and he had never been a worrywart.

So, Edward set to doing what he did best: reading peoples' souls.

The wolves hadn't forgotten him, though he half-expected they would, their minds so absorbed with the hunt, their own petty desires and dreams, the girl – their reigning princess, a silent statue held on a pedestal with some singular, unanimous agreement that not even they seemed to understand.

In spite of it all, they remembered him. Every morning, there was a stirring of feet, a low curse, a shriek as someone's shoulder or arm or hand was nipped, and then quick steps as the door creaked open and someone hurried downstairs to feed the vampire.

Edward had reconsidered his plan, the first morning when they sent down the youngest member of the pack – a boy, small and black-haired and trembling as he approached the bars. He hadn't been tempted for the blood of the boy, sour through layers of silky skin and ratty imitation-brand clothing.

The idea of snatching up those shaking fingers, taking his puny wrist in a vice grip as he slipped the pouch of blood through the bars, pulling him forward and hearing the sickening-sweet crunch of bone cracking in two against cold, hard iron, letting the others rush down and see their previous little boy's carcass there, and him, red-eyed and gleaming, standing triumphantly over his quarry…

…That was immensely tempting.

He hadn't, though, merely for the fact that it would only complicate matters, for him at least. He couldn't escape if he was torn into pieces.

The sacrifice of retribution, however, was well worth it. By the seventh day, after the endless parade of dull, typical teenage minds – sex, money, and the need for fresh pussy – a new voice rose up above the others.

The other girl, Leah, was different from the first. She was Indian, like the rest, tall and lean with thin cheekbones and a raised chin. She was all confidence, her thoughts oozing control and hauteur that none of her brothers seemed to notice – or, if they did, care about.

And she hated the girl.

When she glided into the basement, scrunched-up face betraying her disgust at the situation, the close room full of the scent of vampire, and death, the other girl's face was the first thing Edward saw: nibbling on her plump lower lip, the chocolate eyes full of life and fear and sparking with her thoughts, the things that Edward couldn't hear.

_Bella._

Her name was Bella.

His stomach tightened, and all he wanted in that moment was to break free from the bars that entrapped him, escaping upwards into the building like a bat from the depths of Hades, to bury his face in that pale neck and sip of the ambrosia that constantly clung to his captors like a thick perfume, hear her gasps and grunts and pleas of mercy.

Bella.

In some strange, twisted way, it fit.

Leah threw the bladder of sloshing liquid through the bars like slop to pigs, her nose wrinkling as she watched him rip into it. He felt her disgust, and disregarded it, letting his tongue lap at the spilled blood on the dark stone.

He needed to eat, and his table manners were just what were needed to encourage Leah's train of thought.

She was the weak link he needed, and he planned to use her to the best of his advantage.

"I didn't know that girls could phase."

His voice was rough, from disuse, and from the weak animal blood that trickled down the side of his chin and dripped onto his dusty clothing. It disgusted him, like non-alcoholic beer to a man who was used to glutting himself on the finest vintage. The idea that the siren he craved was a mere few feet above his head was invariably frustrating.

The young woman's head snapped up. Up until that moment, she had been scowling at the dirty floor, her eyes darkening over as her thoughts fumed over different faces, quickly resting on one before flying to another, all wrapped in hatred and dissatisfaction, feelings that Edward well understood.

She didn't like her place in life. She wanted to go higher.

"They don't," she snapped back. Her voice was as bitter as her mind, loud and uneven and deep to the point of near-masculinity. Her throat flexed, the pulse embedded in the dark flesh flying so that it was hardly visible.

Her thoughts flashed a picture of Edward, of her foot grinding his face into the deep-packed earth, the blood that he had so reluctantly swallowed flowing back through his teeth.

The vitriol stung, even as Edward admired her. This girl would be useful.

"You seem to deny your own sexuality," he purred, watching carefully as her muscles contracted…and then, almost _relaxed_. Perhaps wolves weren't immune to a vampire's charm after all – or, at least, the gentler sex. "From where I'm standing, all I see is a strong, beautiful woman…unless you have some evidence to prove me wrong."

Leah's nostrils flared. Her mind conjured up the image of the tallest young man, the one who oozed pride and bearing, his arms around her waist, his lips on hers. The image was colored in with hues of indignation and repulsion.

Perhaps flirtation wasn't the right aim.

"Keep talking, vampire," she snarled, and in that brief moment she seemed to almost shift: her lips drew back from her teeth, her body arching back, every inch of her seeming to crackle with electricity, and something different, more potent and mystical.

And then, her mind flashed the picture.

Edward was on his feet within a second, nearly pressed against the bars with his own bout of emotions. The girl still scowled at him, her body gradually relaxing, returning to the state of the human woman and subduing the inner beast, but he no longer concerned himself with her.

He knew how to free himself.

If Leah knew that she had in a way contributed to her pack's own downfall, her body didn't betray her. Silent and apathetic, she stepped away from the imprisoned vampire and headed back upstairs, grumbling something under her breath about filthy bloodsuckers. Edward couldn't care less.

The weak link was ready to be plied.

And Edward would be freed.


	8. BPOV Night Terror

**I do not own Twilight or its characters. All rights for Where the Wild Things Are and quoted material belong to Maurice Sendak. **

**Thanks to the most gorgeous beta in the world, YellowGlue, for inspiring this little venture and using her magical red pen to smooth over the flaws. You are extremely special, and I'm so lucky to have you in my life.**

**I suggest listening to AFI's "Miss Murder", Laura Marling's "Night Terror" and Alice in Chain's "Black Gives Way to Blue" - in particular, the guitar in the beginning, because it reminded me a lot of the Twilight soundtrack.**

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**BPOV**

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Sam's eyes pleaded with me; wide, earnest hazel. Those eyes asked me to understand, to somehow comprehend the twisted myths, the snipped threads of fate that had shut me into this large, sunless box, and accept. I had to accept that I would never be free again.

I would be at Jacob Black's will.

After I had become sick over the bedroom floor, I had laid there in the dim room, my head buried under the hill of dusty, yellowing pillows, trying to drown out the noises around me: high, forced cackles and snarls and pants - the sounds of an untamed menagerie. I was surrounded by wild animals who wanted to eat me alive.

I dimly remembered a book from my childhood, spread over pale knees mottled with scabs and birthmarks: a boy, who ran away to be king of wild beasts, and a horde of hairy, savage monsters who danced about him with paganistic glee; _"We'll eat you up,"_ they promised him, _"because we love you so."_

It was out of love for me that Sam set me down, five days after the incident, avoiding the skulking shadows of my unwanted destiny and half-formed side conversations that followed me like unwanted, wispy ghosts, and told me that I had the choice to refuse Jacob's offer.

I stared at my elder brother, the man I thought I could always turn to for the truth, bitter and concentrated as it often was, and watched his lips.

His tongue flicked out.

He opened his mouth, and closed it.

He said, "You can tell me anything that troubles you, Bella. I'll do my best to make it stop."

His lips contorted into a grim smile, pink flesh pulling back to expose white, glistening teeth.

Should I have expected anything less, in the end? I knew where loyalties lay in the end.

Brother or not, Sam was still a wolf.

And, by the end of the day, despite marriage ties and childhood secrets and family – the only thing I'd ever wanted, ever needed so badly that it _hurt_ – Sam would turn his back on me, on everything that we shared, for the sake of his crude instincts to follow the Alpha.

It was something that I thought I would get used to, disappointment after disappointment, being boxed into a corner by the people I would've thought were my allies. Apparently, though, as I listened to the sugar-coated excuses, I never did. It still smarted, rubbing against old, unhealed wounds and reopening them with callous hands.

_I want a choice, Sam, _my fingers moved through the air slowly, heavily. I knew there was no use in the broken arguments I attempted to make, but still I had to say them, like an old record stuck on play, unable to stop itself from scratching the same groove again and again. _I want to be able to choose my future, instead of having it prescribed for me._

As if I'd ever had a choice before.

Sam just looked at me, his eyes pitying, the unwittingly condescending look of a predator eyeing its next meal, apologizing a moment before it snapped forward and broke said meal's neck.

"He's asked me to take you off the routines."

Even though I told myself I wouldn't react, even though some part of me had been expecting this turn of events from the moment that Jake had cornered me in that dusty, dank room and put his seal on the rest of my life, I still felt the red flush across my cheeks.

_He has no right, _I signed, angrily this time.

I had no love for what I did. Selling my blood was no better than a prostitute giving up her body to the highest bidder. Every bite, every touch from a vampire whose hands briefly caressed my skin, was like a brand on me, marking me as a worthless whore, no better than leftover trash.

I had always gone through with it though, because my brothers asked, because I wanted to be more than an albatross around their necks and an extra mouth to feed.

And I did it because I hated the blood-drinking scum of the earth whose leering faces haunted my dreams.

The idea of Jacob abusing his power over Sam, and cutting off the only position in the pack that made me feel like I mattered, stung more than I could've ever imagined.

It infuriated me, to the point that I could almost imagine my skin rending apart, becoming reborn as a large denizen of the dark, a shadowy monster.

Sam just shook his head.

"You can't go on like this, Bella. The last time, with that foul bloodsucker Edward," he spat the name like it was coated with the vampire's venom, "I saw what the exchange did to you. He nearly drained you. The anti-venom just barely kicked in."

He leaned forward towards my face, and I almost thought I could smell dried blood, torn apart carcasses, the sweet smell of a disemboweled vampire.

I wanted to vomit.

"Bella," he breathed heavily, enunciating on every word. "You could have become one of them."

I just stared at him for a moment. It had occurred to me, in those brief seconds before my protectors peeled Edward off me, separating us like a child from its mother's breast. We all knew what would have happened if reflexes had been too slow, if Edward had been strong enough to fight off my brothers, if just one drop of venom made its way through my bloodstream without the interference of the antidote.

It was something that I had prepared for before, in theory. My veins would close off, seared by the immortal poison. My heart beats would be numbered. I would writhe on the hard, cold floor in the agony of the change, the monster slowly overpowering the humanity within me.

And then, it would be over.

Because the pack would kill me.

_You wouldn't let me get far, _I reminded him flatly. _You have your orders from the council. _

For a moment, Sam looked almost guilty. Maybe the idea of my death – a death of someone close to him, his younger sister, the girl that he had taken in and taken an oath to protect – by his hands, had finally sunk in.

I had seen too much of death to let the idea bother me. When you died, there was nothing more that could touch you, hurt you. There was no fear, and no pain.

And there was no Jacob.

Of course, that led me to wonder if my contemplating death for the mere sake of avoiding blessed union with Jacob Black was a warning sign for suicide.

There was a sudden rustle in the kitchen, a stomping of feet, a slamming door and Leah was in the doorway, breathless and shaking, her face bloodless and taut.

"Sam," she hissed. "The mercenary."

I could almost hear the vibration through Sam's spine as he instantly straightened, his eyes sharp, the bearing of a leader in his eyes, in his voice. I was no longer his concern, and for a moment, it bothered me.

_A mercenary?_

It was a term that I hadn't heard before, and the fact that it outweighed my issues with Jacob on Sam's priority list was a cause for alarm. There weren't many concerns in our small world that my brothers had to balance; they ran patrol, stood guard for me as I did my nightly ensnarement, brought home food, and slept. We were our own form of government: a small nation that ran by its own rules and that of an invisible higher order, and nothing really changed besides that.

Except the vampires.

The vampires came and went in the night, without a trace left behind to even show their existence.

I never asked where they went. Even though it was my burden to bear – luring them in, letting them compromise my body in order to slake their bloodlust, ultimately spinning the web that would entrap them and make them my prisoners – I still understood that the vampires and their eventual destinations were part of the mysterious alpha discussions that I wasn't allowed to be a part of.

Sam didn't seem to even notice that I was there anymore. He and Leah locked eyes, a secret conversation passing between them that even I with my experience of silence could not decipher. After a moment, she loped away, back towards the door, her movements fast, unrushed and yet somehow with an underlying urgency, and Sam looked back at me.

His eyes were slits. I could see the change battling to overcome him, the beast taking dominance over the man.

"You need to go into the bedroom. **Now.**"

Sam never spoke to me that way: harsh, unarguable – like an Alpha. It frightened me. Who was this mercenary?

"Bella!" He barked, and I jumped. "I said now!"

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

In that moment, the whole world seemed to spin past me like an old-fashioned film – speeding, burning, crashing, the noise coursing through my ears with all the force of a car wreck. Even if I had wanted to move, I knew inwardly that it wasn't possible.

The stage was set, the camera was rolling, and the script was playing out with all the violence the fates had prepared.

The door slammed open just as Leah reached it, nearly missing her face before it smashed backwards against the wall. Flakes of paint fluttered on the floor. She cursed, and Sam growled, but my eyes and ears could only take in the visitors who had just forced their way into the apartment that had formerly been my safe haven.

They were vampires.

There was no denying the pale skin, the fluid way they walked, the horrific beautiful faces frozen in time – impassive, cold, with no traces of the humanity I treasured.

And their eyes, the startling crimson that I hated, sent shivers down my spine.

It was too late to move, to follow Sam's orders that I understood too well now. All I could do was stand there, as still as possible, and hope that I would be overlooked.

Their leader was a tall, blonde man. In his life, he must have been considered handsome, his hair carefully groomed, eyes sharp and commanding as they surveyed the room – pausing on me, then skipping past to Sam. When he shifted his weight, a human movement I doubted he needed, the light passed over his face.

He was scarred, the same silver crescents that dotted my arms and necks, one on top of the other like a grotesque pattern on a white painting canvas.

It was beautiful, in an odd, frightening sort of way. I couldn't help but stare at him, my mind turning over the scars again and again, trying to figure out how a vampire could sustain marks of his own kind.

There was only one way.

And the idea of _that_ scared me more than the man himself.

Behind him was a female; bright-eyed and petite, resembling a pixie with her dark spiky hair and lithe movements. Our eyes met for a moment, red on brown, and she looked at me curiously, like she recognized me from somewhere before, but couldn't place my name.

I quickly looked away. Something about her rubbed me the wrong way, raising my hairs and making a shudder run through me.

I hated the color red.

The last stranger leaned casually against the wall, her eyes narrowed as she stared at Leah crouching protectively next to Sam. She was blonde, statuesque in a surreal way – the vampire way. Her eyes flashed at me, and she sneered.

"What do you want, Jasper?" Sam spat, the growl vibrating in his chest mutilating the words until they were barely understandable. He was close to letting go, the wolf hanging onto its self control by a single thread. It scared me, more than anything I had seen in the past few months, the vampires who had sunk their teeth into my skin.

Sam was frightened of these vampires.

The leader, Jasper, just raised an eyebrow at Sam, cool, collected, in control of the situation.

"Honestly, Sam? I think we both know why I'm here."

His voice was liquid honey, the smooth, satisfying swish of wine filling an empty glass, alluring and lulling – and dangerous, charming with an edge that threatened to pull me down in the lion's den, blindly following him with foolish, fatal fate.

Sam stiffened. His jaw tightened, and, without even looking at me, he gritted, "Bella, why don't you go and meet the boys outside? Take in some fresh air."

My heart stopped.

_Outside._

It was a word that most probably threw around carelessly – even complained about, the smog-filled air, the honking of taxis and crowded streets – and, somewhere beyond the dark, clustered fishbowl I lived in, deep woods, shimmering meadows and salty-fresh beaches.

To me, the outside was the unattainable. I was never allowed farther than the stairs, the front door, always huddled between warm bodies, not seen, not heard.

I could not be noticed.

For Sam to ask that of me, to venture out of the carefully drawn lines that he himself had set down for me, was a sign of something that I couldn't comprehend, or stomach.

_Danger._

I felt numb, frozen, as I turned to look at him vacantly. There were things that I had always taken for granted – and one had been a blind belief in Sam's strength. To me, especially, weak in my human body with limbs that could so easily be snapped, blood that could be drained before I even realized I was dying, Sam's authority, his built body – his compassion – made him nearly invincible in my eyes.

But even Achilles had a weakness.

Before me, I watched my flawed hero as he folded, like a house of cards, and let me see exactly how weak he could be.

"Why send the little girl away?"

The voice was low, seductive, and effeminate. My eyes snapped to the woman leaning against the wall. She looked indifferent to the situation, completely and utterly bored with the obvious tension crackling in the air – but when I looked at her, her eyes were bright, feverish, and she licked her lips.

She was feeding off my discomfort. The thought made my blood run cold.

"Keep her here," she insisted, not taking her eyes off me. "She looks like she could be a little fun. But her skin…are you anemic? I so dislike low iron in my dinner."

I had gotten used to cruel words from the monsters who 'quarried' me: taunts; threats; quite often, a promise of slow, painful death as they were being dragged away to their mysterious fates.

_Sticks and stones may break my bones…_

Words – words could not kill, maim, or wound a person.

But words could inflict fear.

And fear was a weapon that harmed a psyche more than all the warfare in the world.

Sam stiffened, and a low growl ripped through him, rattling his frame. In that moment, he looked beyond human, pure animal, craving blood and vengeance.

To my surprise, though, Jasper didn't seem pleased by the woman's subtle intimidation.

"Keep your thoughts to yourself, Tanya," he snapped. His voice completely lost its calm, soothing edge, and for a moment, I was staring at another, ordinary vampire. "You know what we came for. The human girl is to be left untouched. We have no quarrel with her."

Tanya crossed her arms over her chest and pushed her bloodless lips out into an exaggerated pout. I didn't take my eyes away from her. I knew the ploys predators played when they wanted to set their prey at ease.

"Sam," Jasper spoke again, his eyes on my brother, hard and unyielding. "Your mate, and your sister, will be left unharmed as long as you cooperate and give back what belongs to us."

My brother's jaw clenched. He didn't speak. Leah nudged him in his side, murmured something frantic and low in Quileute. He acted as though he didn't hear her.

Jasper's face was smooth, but his eyes revealed his frustration. My fingers dug into my palms painfully. I dared not bite my lip, to draw blood and bring the fury of the hunters down on my head.

After a moment, when all was silent, Jasper pressed, "I understand your loyalties to the trackers, but you surely wouldn't sacrifice your own just for one vampire?"

_One vampire?_

Against my own accord, I gasped. The little female's gaze shifted to me for a single, heartstopping moment. Leah closed her eyes and mumbled something that sounded oddly like a prayer.

I realized then that I had just signed Sam's death certificate.

Jasper's attention was on me now. His expression was blank, but something about the way he studied me made my stomach knot up.

"The blood whore, isn't it?"

His words were harsh and cutting. I physically recoiled from them and him, trying to press myself back into the wall. Tanya smirked at me as I heard another harsh snarl from my brother.

"And what do you know about one vampire?" Jasper continued, ignoring the look of pained helplessness on my brother as he prowled towards me. "I suspect that you see quite a few vampires, don't you, sweetheart? Probably don't even remember their names – but isn't that what all women of your kind are like? Open your legs for a man one night, turn around and you're in bed with his brother the next."

I just stood there, trembling, my nails biting into my flesh. I hated him, hated this vampire that I had never even seen before this night for invading my home, threatening my family, digging into my inner emotional wounds and making them bleed.

But there was nothing I could do.

I, Bella, the Circe who lured in vampires to their doom, who scoffed at Jacob when he offered me safety from the harsh reality of my position in the pack, was helpless.

"Bella has nothing to do with any of this," Sam gritted out. "Leave her alone."

Jasper waved a hand backwards, dismissing him, not taking his eyes off me.

"The truth shall set you free. You've heard that before, haven't you, Bella? You look like a smart girl. Just tell me what I need to know – and you will be free."

I looked from the entrancing red of his eyes to my brother and sister, frightened, so vulnerable.

What had they kept from me? Who were these people, and why were they so interested in…

_Edward. _

Something dim was poking around the back of my mind – a theory, something dark and hateful, something that would fully break my trust in my family, for good. I didn't want to face it yet. I turned to Jasper and took a deep breath.

There was a loud crash somewhere beneath our feet. The floor seemed to shake. I grabbed hold of the nearest object to me – a couch – gripped until my knuckles were white. Leah burrowed into Sam's side as he cursed lowly.

"What the…"

Then the noise filled the air – screeches, unearthly bellows and growls that sent shivers down my spine and a spike of fear into my heart. Thumps and the scrabble of claws against tile, and then the door slammed open for the second time within an hour, thrown against the door and splintering in a glorious spark of wood and peeling paint.

There stood Edward, tall, tattered, his red eyes filled with the glory of the chase and inhuman hunger. His eyes flitted around the room, and then rested on me. He smirked, drawing his lips back from his white teeth.

I couldn't move. I couldn't even breathe.

"Started the party without me?" He asked, every word coming out in a dangerous purr. "Seems like I need to catch up."


	9. EPOV Taken

**A few acknowledgements that I want to give. First of all, thanks and big, sloppy kisses to YellowGlue, one of the loves of my life and my beta-sweetie, for inspiring this story and the fastest red-penning I've ever seen. **

**Secondly, a big mwah to TwiCharmed for reviewing my story on TwiFicPimps a week back, and to all the lovely ladies who followed the linky and left love! You guys are awesome!**

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He had surprisingly enjoyed his maudlin entrance.

Bella had frozen as she heard his voice – momentarily, so quickly that a human couldn't have caught it – and then, when she whirled, their eyes met, and held.

She was afraid.

He enjoyed that emotion, enjoyed how her limbs tensed like a stunned deer in the eyes of a wildcat, how her breath caught and her heartbeat raced until the beats were a single hum of dread, of desperation.

Out of the corner of his eye, Edward saw his sister straighten. Her face lit up and she clapped her hands joyously, as though Edward's arrival out of nowhere was a magic trick solely for her enjoyment. Of course, she'd probably already seen it. Alice's moods were odd like that, capricious like the weather.

The Witch Twins, both completely unreliable, and bloodthirsty.

He didn't feel attached to anyone in particular, but if he had to choose one person to sacrifice his life for, it would be Alice; even though he doubted she'd do the same.

"Edward," Jasper said, and in his cold voice there was a slight tint of relief. "You never reported back."

"For obvious reasons," he spat, his eyes still on the girl, the way that her eyes flitted back and forth between him and the wolf Alpha, pleading, absolutely terrified.

It was refreshing, to see the girl whose blank face had taunted him on the day of his capture, now so broken under his gaze, as though he'd crushed her physically like a doll beneath his heel.

The Alpha's mind was reeling, flitting between different faces – his brothers, flashes of brown and fur. Edward caught his eye, and bared his teeth in a violent grin, exposing the blood coating the sharp canines.

The youngest wolf had been too easy to overpower, in the end, after his sister's treacherous mind had revealed the secret curiosity behind the wide brown eyes – so much like the girl, young and innocent and impressionable. All it took was one moment of obliviousness, and Edward's trap had been sprung.

Edward cared less what happened to the boy he had left in the cellar, writhing in the grip of the venom's agonies as his assaulter stepped out of the cage, straightened his clothes and took the stairs two at a time. His mind was focused on the girl, the thoughts – clear, sharp, despite the barrier of various floors and furniture and bodies in between – as Tanya considered the best way to bypass Jasper's orders.

_She smells so sweet. Just one taste wouldn't hurt._

_A bite at her jugular? Her hand?_

Animalistic fury had surged through him at the idea of Tanya letting her teeth slice into the tender, translucent skin.

His skin.

His girl.

That had been all it had taken – two half-formed thoughts, and one wrong step. The boy was easily immobilized, his sour blood coating the stones beneath him. Edward wasn't even tempted to sample a drop.

Bella had ruined him for anyone else.

And as soon as he took control of the situation, he was going to finish the job she'd started.

"Well, now that we're all here…" Jasper's voice, sharp, harsh, like a dagger, cut through the visible tension in the room. Bella jumped, her frail frame trembling as she bit down on her plump lower lip. Just looking at her – seeing the blood welling up under the abused skin, her teeth kneading, tempting, teasing him – was enough to make the venom well up in his mouth.

He swallowed, with some effort.

_Not long now._

_Just wait._

The Alpha stood slowly, letting his weight settle on his knees like he had been wounded. His mate rose with him, her teeth still bared, saliva dripping from her canines. She looked fierce, unbreakable – but Edward could see her thoughts, the snake pit of guilt and worry and suspicions that she could not, _would not_, verbalize.

She loved her brother.

But, she would not reveal her weaknesses to her mate.

Edward smirked. Women were all the same in the end. It boiled down to one important rule in their minds: _me_.

"You've got you wanted," the Alpha snarled at Jasper, bringing Edward's attention away from Leah and her hidden demons. "Now go. I advise you that my brothers will be back any minute. It won't be a good move on your part to still be here when they arrive."

Tanya and Alice exchanged smug glances. None of them had to speak, but all knew that it was a bluff. Young, hormonally-driven werewolves, set loose in a city of corruption and decay – and nomads passing in and out, taking and leaving what they wanted –

None of them would be returning anytime soon.

The Alpha was left defenseless, a king alone on the checkerboard without his pawns.

And Edward was fully prepared to take full advantage.

"Brother," he said, voice soft, eyes on the Alpha, knowing the girl was staring at him. His fingers clenched, longing for her skin, to be able to dig his nails into her tender flesh, listen to her writhe and scream underneath him.

It wouldn't be tender, not for her.

That was the best part of it.

Jasper turned to look at him, angling his head and giving him a smug look that implied he knew exactly what Edward wanted. Good. The more the bastard knew, the better. If there was anything Edward hated more, it was wasting time.

He wanted the girl.

And he wanted out of here.

"Perhaps we are imposing on the Pack's hospitality," he said, slowly, carefully.

The girl's pink tongue flicked over her abused bottom lip.

Sam's breath filled his lungs in a single whoosh, and never released.

"We will leave, but…under a certain agreement."

Edward could hear Leah's thoughts again, blooming shots of alarm and guilt and pain that exploded behind her eyes – his eyes – like fireworks.

She knew what he was suggesting.

She knew.

And yet, she still didn't speak. She stood there, frozen, her hand on her lover's shoulder, watching as Edward prepared the trap for the innocent prey.

Edward liked this she-wolf more and more with every second.

Sam did not seem as quick to grasp the heavy connotations behind Edward's words. His brow furrowed, his eyelids half-closing so as to add a drowsy look to his face.

"Agreement?" He said, dumbly, and then more eagerly – desperately, grasping at straws to avert the danger until backup arrived, "Of course, anything."

Leah's head lowered.

Edward gave the sweet, triumphant, utterly wicked smile of the Devil as Eve took a bite of the apple.

"You are too generous, Sam," he sneered. "Much too generous."

Tanya inched off the wall, closer to Alice – closer to the girl. Edward shot her a single look, out of the corner of his eye.

_Don't touch her._

_I'll fucking tear you limb from limb if you touch her._

She stopped, pouted a bit in a way that a younger Edward would have been dazzled by. But this Edward – this hungry, calculative, all too greedy Edward – didn't care.

_**Mine.**_

Bella was completely oblivious to the fact that her brother had unwittingly sold her into the very hands of Lucifer himself. She seemed introspective, brown waves hiding creamy skin, her eyes distant.

She was beautiful, fine silk draped over a delicate glass wine decanter, just waiting to be touched.

Tasted.

Broken.

He had hold of her before she could even blink, even open her mouth to scream. He knew she wouldn't, though, knew that the panicked look she gave him, the frenzied way that she pulled at his grasp, was all the struggle he would receive.

And it intrigued him, more than the idea of finally possessing the demon that tempted him.

He wanted to know exactly how she ticked.

And if that meant taking her apart, so be it.

The Alpha sprung forward, barely held back by his lover's arms. His entire body was a blur of vibration and growls and dark skin.

"You promised to leave peacefully!" He roared. "Let go of my sister!"

Leah's eyes watched the whole scene, tense with grief, with the need to redeem herself. But she didn't move. She stood there, holding Sam back, sealing Bella's fate with one word.

_Sorry._

_So, so sorry._

Sorry was never enough. But Edward had no time for her tormented thoughts. He could sense the pack coming closer, oblivious, unknowing – but still alert, ready to strike.

He was not that confident to go up against the wolves as a group.

Not without help.

"An agreement must be honored, Sam," Jasper said calmly, watching the whole scene with a look of indifference. It didn't matter to Jasper whether or not Edward actually managed to escape with the girl. His only worry was survival, and Alice.

And right now, his thoughts matched Edward's. They were pushing this too far.

"I am sorry this had to turn out this way," Jasper added, with a final solemn glance at the frantic Alpha and his mate. Leah's eyes met his. She held her spine ramrod straight, effusing the strength that seemed to be eluding Sam, and nodded, once.

And then, Edward flung Bella over his back, and they flew out of the door, down the hall, like the Devil himself was nipping at their heels.

A few flights of stairs, an open door, and they were outside in the smog and cold air and wet cement of the inner city.

Edward smiled.

He was free.


	10. BPOV While My Blood's Still Flowing

**BPOV**

He's going to eat me.

None of them have said anything – not since that final moment in the apartment, thick with tension and their sickly-sweet breath; not since Jasper spoke those words and I knew that there was no escaping this.

_I am sorry it had to turn out this way._

I saw the look in Edward's eyes as we paused on the slick sidewalk, shadowed by tall buildings, a red light blinking erratically in the distance. He stopped there and smiled in such a way that it made my skin crawl with utter loathing.

I couldn't enjoy the sights around me, being outside of the apartment building for the first time in what felt like an eternity of closed walls and stuffy, cramped living spaces.

All I could think of was that look.

Triumphant.

Delighted.

Hungry.

I barely took note of the two females that trailed obediently in Jasper's wake as we passed over crosswalks, stopped under dim neon signs, moving past silent, shadowy passerby who looked at our grim procession curiously, but didn't bother to question our presence.

The reflex was warning them, of danger, of the consequences of coming any closer.

I was glad.

If I had to die tonight, it would be alone, without dragging other victims behind me, dooming them to a harsh, untimely end.

I looked up once at the tall blonde's face, half-cast in shadow as she lithely strode past a store window. In the dim lighting, her face was garish, revealing a monstrous side behind the inconceivable beauty.

I looked at her, and I knew that any death that these creatures would inflict on me would hardly be painless.

Edward's hand stayed around my wrist, ice cold, long, spidery fingers constantly flexing against my skin – warning me, daring me to try and pull away, to break free.

I would run.

And he would hold on, and rend me apart.

He had no reason to keep me alive, not as long as he got my blood, or my body, or God only knew what else he wanted from me.

But I knew, without doubt, it wasn't me as a companion.

"Take this," Jasper addressed me for the first time since his heartless words in the apartment, shoving a small printed paper into my limp fingers. I stared down at it blankly, not sure what it meant, or even why he was giving it to me.

_Deli Service. Please take one, and we will be with you shortly._

A small hysterical giggle bubbled in my throat. The small female eyed me curiously, but Edward was not amused.

"Scan it, here," he ordered, his voice tense. I kept my eyes on his throat, not willing to raise them higher and see the fury burning in his eyes. A muscle jumped around in his neck. The fingers tensed, just once, around my wrist – just once, but it was enough.

I hadn't realized that we were no longer outside, that we were standing within a large, brightly-lit tunnel, all gray stones and fluorescent lights.

It reminded me of the basement, of a hunched pale figure and deadly red eyes. I shuddered, closing my eyes and just wishing I could just take two steps back and listen to Sam when he'd warned me.

_Too little, too late._

"Bella!"

Edward's voice was sharp and unsympathetic. I dazedly let my fingers follow his, waving the paper in front of a scanner. There was a click, and then Edward roughly shoved me through rotating metal bars, scanning his own before he followed me.

"Which direction are we going?" He asked, his voice slightly breathless. I knew it wasn't for need of oxygen. They all were panting, their eyes bright, eager – the thrill of the chase, of knowing that even if the wolves were nipping at their heels, they would always be one step ahead.

I felt sick as I thought of my brothers, frantically chasing after the trail, only to find – what?

To find the trail cold, no traces of me or my captors.

Or worse, maybe they would find my dead body, drained of life, cold and pale and impenetrable like the monster who gripped my hand.

I swallowed hard.

The idea of my family having to experience that was worse than the idea of death itself.

Jasper cleared his throat. He looked just as electrified as the rest of them, his eyes wide, and a hideous grin contorting his lips.

"We take the downtown train," he ordered. "Right after Tanya and Bella switch clothes, and she goes the opposite direction to lead the mutts off the scent."

I bit my lip to keep myself from crying out. I had been kidnapped, forced to walk outside in the cold darkness, and now they would take away my last dregs of dignity by stripping me down?

Edward looked down at me, his eyes full of malicious glee.

"What's the matter, Bella?" He teased, a dark edge of gloating in his voice. "Not used to baring it all?"

The girl – if she could even be called that anymore – that Jasper had addressed as Tanya, snorted and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"What a prude."

"Stop it," Jasper commanded. They fell silent, but Edward still smirked at me, one eyebrow raised, waiting.

"Bella, do you need any further motivation? Strip," and then Jasper leaned forward, his beady ruby eyes on mine, "or else, not even Edward's little exhibit of possessiveness won't keep me from sampling you first – and believe me, you don't want that to happen."

A old snippet of my past floated to mind – my mother's voice, soft like her hands as she knelt beside me on the hard wooden floors, clasping my palms together and repeating again and again a prayer of protection.

_Our Father, which art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name…_

My trembling fingers lifted, unbuttoning my blouse.

I wished they would turn, that some semblance of humanity still rested in their dead bodies and would compel them to empathy.

They stared.

Edward's eyes seemed to sear into my flesh as I timidly dropped the hand-me-down shirt on the floor, crossing my arms over my chest even though there was little chance of me being able to hide.

Tanya seemed to enjoy my suffering, purposefully peeling off her own cardigan, exposing marble-white skin as she held it between thumb and forefinger, leering at me as I snatched it out of her grasp and yanked it on like the layer of cloth would protect me from Edward.

It felt as though it had been washed in a stream, and then dried in an icy wind, and the smell of rotten sugar seemed to overpower my sensitive nostrils.

I didn't dare complain, though.

I could imagine the sadistic thrill it would give Edward to order me to strip down completely and march beside him naked.

Jasper seemed to grow bored with Tanya's little game. I had her jeans in my hands faster than the cardigan, and I pulled them on so fast the denim burned against my skin. I didn't care. It was one less humiliation Edward could use against me.

"Let's go."

Edward took me by the hand this time, sauntering casually this time down a small flight of stairs, past a group of giggling faux-blonde teenagers, glassy-eyed and dazed.

"Fucking hot," one of them giggled as we passed them, her eyes dropping down before she looked back at Edward's face with a dumb smile.

Edward didn't say anything in return. He didn't even return her hungry gaze. He just smirked, a slow wicked curl of his lips that made me sure that, despite being dead, he was still a man.

I wished I could tell the girl exactly how wrong she was – how looks weren't everything, especially when it came to the dark, deadly, too perfect man beside me.

How, if I could, I would want to be like her – oblivious to the dangers of the night, free to party and drink myself senseless and stumble home with my friends without a care in the world.

But I couldn't.

Even if I escaped from this nightmare, even if I left the job and got together with Jacob and he took me away from this city back to the damp woods of my birth, I could never leave this world behind.

Once you've seen something, you can never un-see it.

No matter how much you want to.

None of the vampires commented on my silence, the passive way I let Edward drag me deeper and deeper into the dark underground of the city. I should've been putting up a fight, kicking and biting and letting out screams – deep, horrific, silent screams that only I could hear.

Useless screams that would not penetrate a vampire's stone heart, like the skin that would dull my teeth and break off my fingernails.

What use was there in fighting?

Maybe my compliance would make it go by faster.

I knew firsthand how painful a vampire's bite could be. Even after the shots of Sam's handmade anti-venom, the pain would linger, flames licking underneath the skin, blistering muscle and charring bone. It was something I could never get used to, though I put on a brave face for the sake of my brother, took the pounds on the back and the poorly done bandages like a man.

I could not imagine how the pain, clear, sharp, deadly, would cut through me like a knife.

I would be helpless.

Which was exactly how Edward would want me.

"They're onto us," the small female chirped. She had a strange voice for her kind – innocent, almost, childish, as though she hadn't been hardened by the world – but I knew better. There was a thrill of glee in her voice, the same nervous hum that trembled through their bodies.

It reminded me of my brothers, right before the change. Seth had tried to describe it to me once. There was an odd look in his eyes – a mixture between longing, and fear. He spoke about that last attempt to control the desire, the excitement that couldn't be tamed, just longing to shred out of your skin and become something more than you already were.

But my brothers weren't monsters. They were protectors, family, sons and lovers.

Vampires knew nothing of love, of wanting someone for more than the taste of blood and the smell of fear in the air.

Jasper didn't change his relaxed stance. They knew, and I knew, that there wasn't a hope of the pack catching up to them now. To my brothers, I was lost.

There was nothing more they could do.

Except pray, to a God who might be listening, for a miracle that would never happen.

"They're still far," he replied, "but Tanya, it might be a good idea for you to get a move on."

Tanya gave a little dramatic huff, rolled her eyes, pushed her hip out, before she smiled – a curved melon slice of sharp white teeth and bloodless lips. She looked towards Edward, seemingly waiting for something.

He didn't say anything.

He was staring down at me, watching me tremble, trying to ignore his gaze. He loved it, leering at me, taking it in like a mountain lion cornering its quarry.

She gave a little pout, cleared her throat and loped towards the train waiting at the otherwise empty platform. I had never seen a train this close before, except in old magazines and books one of the boys brought home as treats when I was sick.

Sam discouraged my desire to learn more about the outside world and the city that surrounded me.

"It's nothing but vice and iniquity," he spat in my direction. His brow furrowed, storm clouds hovering over his eyebrows, lingering in the darkness of his eyes. "Smog and filth and the very lowest definition of human beings. It's not a place that you need to be, Bella."

The printed material trickled off after that. He was the Alpha. No one dared to cross his commands, not even if they were unspoken. I stayed in my fishbowl, closed in, never let out.

The doors shut behind Tanya. She sat down on one of the plastic seats, and it pulled off. She never looked back, like this was an everyday event: kidnapping a girl, leading her family off the trail, stepping into the bowels of an electrical monster and crossing her legs like she was waiting for a movie audition.

As soon as the train disappeared down the tracks, snorting like a bull as it retreated into the dark recesses, Jasper snapped back to action.

"Edward, you and Alice will be taking Bella back," he directed. "I have some…unfinished business with the underlings to attend to."

I glanced from face to face, feeling dread sink like lead in my stomach as Edward's lips curled back into a frightening smile. Alice squealed, jumping up and down and clapping her hands like she'd just won the lottery.

"Really? Oh, Jazz, baby, can't I go too?"

Jasper gave her what could almost be considered a fond look.

"No, Alice. This isn't a pleasure visit. I have some questions regarding the wolves, and their secret sister."

My stomach dropped, and I could feel the tears stinging the corners of my eyes. I hadn't understood the conversation between Sam and Jasper, the hidden implications that made Sam so tense – but something inside me knew, knew that something was wrong, and that somehow, my brother had gotten himself and all of us tangled up in a web bigger than he could handle.

And now, everyone was going to pay for it.

Jasper looked back at us – at me, pale and shaking, and Edward, dirty but smug, keeping his grip on me as though one loose finger would let me slip away – and he smirked.

"Save some for me," he winked coarsely at Edward. He grinned back. I shuddered.

Then he was gone, a shadow that flickered out as soon as the lights were turned on. I stared at the spot he had been standing in for a moment, almost expecting him to blink back again. I had never been this unnerved in my life.

I had severely underestimated vampires.

And the fact that I was now in their full power was now hitting me hard.

Edward and Alice were murmuring above my head in low voices. The clock above the tracks flashed three a.m. in bright red numbers. What would I have been doing at this time last night? Curling up against one of my brothers, listening to the soothing breathing, maybe giving a sleepy laugh as Seth offered one final joke or Leah nearly bit Quil's head off?

A lump rose in my throat.

_Goodbye, guys. I love you. So much. I never even got to tell you._

"You can do it," Edward said, a maliciously gleeful sound to his voice. "I'd probably just snap her neck, and I don't want to fuck this up too soon."

He looked down at me, his red eyes gleaming.

"I want to drag this out as long as possible."

_Your kingdom come, your will be done…_

I closed my eyes and sent up a little prayer of my own.

_Let it be quick._

When I opened them, Alice was standing in front of me, a dangerous smile curling her lips. In that moment, she no longer looked sweet and young. She was a she-devil, a demon in sheep's clothing and painted nails.

"This will only hurt a little," she promised.

And then, there was black.

* * *

Chapter song: **Help I'm Alive (acoustic)** - Metric.

I cannot express how much I appreciate that you read this story (even this little part down here).

xoxo


	11. EPOV Another Way

**Much love and kisses to YellowGlue, my sweet beta, for putting up with me and my constant writing dramas. :s She deserves a lot of thank yous for helping me out with Hellward this chapter. He's been a handful. **

**Next chapter, things get *really* interesting.**

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* * *

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To all appearances, she was dead.

Edward focused his eyes on the movement of the pulse – that small, feathery, nearly unnoticeable movement that assured him Bella's body was still functioning in an ordinary state; heart still beating, pumping blood through her, giving her life.

He hated the human body. He hated how easily it could be crushed with just a single, unchecked touch, how just one day without food and water, could weaken it to the point of near-destruction.

Alice's hand – the hand that now rested on Bella's knee, measuring the girl, perhaps to suggest a change of clothes as soon as they had reached their destination – could have thoughtlessly snapped Bella's neck, ended all of Edward's plans with one careless stroke.

But it hadn't.

It confused him, even as it pleased him.

The girl was tougher than she looked.

Even in sleep, her brow was furrowed, her fat lower lip pushed out as though in a defiant pout. Just looking at it: the alluring pink, the slight sheen of her saliva dampening the translucent skin…it made the beast in Edward roar for satisfaction.

_Soon._

_Very, very soon._

Memories of that first taste, the lingering sensation of her tingling on the lips he once thought could no longer respond to such a sensuous experience, would no longer have to sate him. He would be able to taste the real thing, enjoy the wine without torturing himself over the bouquet, let it swirl over his tongue – intoxicating. Drugging.

The effects of the lotus in the mouth of the one who needed to forget.

His sister watched him, her scarlet eyes narrowed, studying him, and then she switched to the girl, as though juxtaposing the faces together – trying to discover a secret held out of her grasp. He smirked at her expression. Alice, the fortune teller, who read the woven destinies of the Fates, always on top; hating it when she realized that some mysteries were beyond her comprehension.

"Her blood doesn't bother me," she said sullenly. "I don't understand why you and Jasper insist on bringing her along. It only makes more complications. Did you see Tanya's face when she left?"

Tanya had been a distraction, a temporary release for the endless bloodlust that seemed to clench at Edward's throat. Nothing more. She put too much stock in the attractiveness of her kind, stone-cold limbs and bloodless lips that held no temptation for Edward.

Not like the warm, breathing creature nestled against his side.

Young, fresh, still alive, her heartbeat echoing like a siren's call in his ears.

And untouched.

That had promise to Edward as well.

"Tanya will have to swallow her pride," Edward snapped back. He knew his sister, and he knew that her sudden doubts about the human captive had nothing to do with Tanya's reservations. Alice was many things, but generous wasn't one of her qualities.

He had never been fond of his sister's fetish for control. Even as a human, he could remember the haughty look on her face, the slap of a small palm against burning skin. He wondered sometimes about the intimacy between Alice and Jasper – if his commander really held the whip in the bedroom as he did before his troops.

_Pretty fucking unlikely._

He had to force back a sardonic grin.

"You focus on the holes in your visions, and I will worry about who needs to be brought along," he finished, his voice sharp. It was a warning that he knew he would not have to repeat. Alice's eyes flashed with venom, the same temper they both shared, but she didn't challenge his command.

She wouldn't dare to.

Letting the threat sink in, Edward turned his gaze down to Bella, his brow furrowing as he attempted to press out Alice's indignant inner voice, and focus on the mind of the mortal. He touched her lightly, fingers making dimples in the pale skin – the connection however, didn't aid the process, something that had always come naturally to him, but with this girl, seemed difficult and weak.

His gift had been a weapon that he had been sharpening for years, sorting through thousands of minds, uncountable thoughts, and needs, and desires that were left unspoken, to discover the voice he needed to hear.

But with her, it didn't work.

And it oddly pleased him, even as his teeth clenched together and the deadly venom flowed like saliva in his mouth.

Even under the vulnerable spell of unconsciousness, Bella's head was a steel safe that would not be cracked. She slept on, blissfully oblivious to the mounting frustration in Edward. His hands clamped onto his knee, wishing it were her neck. He would pull her apart, tenderly removing flesh and cracking bone, until he got to the heart of her soul, that single organ that eluded his power.

And he would have it for his own.

The girl was too unique to be wasted on human mortality; every breath ticking away at her potential until there was nothing more but decrepit bones and shattered promises.

He had never considered changing a human before. Even as he gazed at her, Edward imagined easily breaking that little swan-like neck over his knee like a twig. The thought of one woman by his side for all of eternity was nauseating.

He did not need a queen.

He did not need loyalty.

But he needed a stepping stone, and if this odd little creature's mental wall was his first step in ascending the social ladder, so be it.

He would take it.

The train stopped. Alice sighed, and looked up at the slowly dragging clock. No one would get on this stop, not so early in the morning. The car doors would close, and the train would continue on its journey down the tracks – but valuable time would be lost.

It was one of the downfalls of the speed of a vampire.

Everything else moved so much slower.

Edward barely paid attention to it now. The possibility still pricked at his mind, infuriating even as it was intriguing.

He could change her.

He could change Bella.

Just the name, the idea of the small, frail body and the large, fearful eyes, sent a shudder down his spine, made him close his eyes and take a sharp inhalation of breath. He tried to picture those eyes as deep scarlet, the skin cold and hard, her shapeless body curved and feminine.

It was only after Alice's unnecessary gasp that he realized she could see his plans.

He hadn't made a decision.

The girl's life still hung in the balance – blood against power, the lust for the ambrosia that flooded through her veins, juxtaposed with absolute supremacy.

But Alice had seen a vision, and when she looked at him, her face was a hard mask of rage and indignation.

"You're thinking of changing her?" She shrieked. "How dare you? You…you're considering an option that is above your place. Jasper is our leader. He is the only one who can decide what to do with this – this little pest," she spat, her eyes gleaming with venom.

He didn't answer her. In any other moment, her words would have infuriated him. He might have carried out his threats, taken the punishment later from Jasper with a stoic look in his eyes, and a satisfied smile curling his lips.

But now, the possibilities – the ironic fact that Alice's gift could touch the girl's future, but not his – made Edward feel, for the first time in his life, overwhelmed.

The train screeched to a stop. The doors fell open. Without a word, Alice glided to her feet, out into the dark terminal and vanished. She was upset with him. Perhaps in another time, he would have followed after her, done the appropriate kowtowing to appease her.

In another time, Alice was his God.

But not now.

Now, he looked to Bella's face as he lifted up her weightless body.

Now, there was a new creature to worship.

A new possibility.

Her body seemed even more delicate under his fingers. The warmth of her seeped into his skin, evaporating into the air. Her smell, freesia and fresh strawberries, mixed in with the smell of old garbage and the exhalation of humans and trains.

It was as though the mere idea, the possibility that she could be something more – that he could make her into something better than what she was, emancipate her from the fragile human body, from the threat of wrinkles, wasting away into old age and death – had snapped her ties with the mortal world.

She didn't stir as they ascended the stairs into the dim light of the early dawn. Somewhere on the corner of one of the barren streets, he heard the two escorts join them, feet nearly silent as they padded through the puddles of light cast by street lamps, and then back down into the darkness of the abandoned tunnel.

It was only after they were nearly there, when the air grew chilly and the smell of other vampires thickened the oxygen that flowed in and out of her lungs, that she stiffened and cried out, her eyes shooting open. He felt a sort of sadistic pleasure as she squirmed in his arms, struggling to free herself, to find an escape that was no longer possible.

Her eyes flashed widely to the guards, standing by, hoods lowered, leering at her as though she were fresh meat. Edward snarled lowly, and they quickly looked away, but her eyes were skipping again, from his face, to the irritated expression Alice bore as she stood to the side, to the carvings above her head, the old stones and dirty walls that surrounded them.

"Welcome to Hell, Bella," Edward whispered, enjoying the lurch in her heartbeat, how her body stirred her to run, even though he could see the resignation in her eyes. "You should get used to it. This is the only home you'll ever have."

She might not have realized it, but it was a promise.

A promise that Edward would make sure to last.


	12. BPOV Welcome to Hell

**I do not own Twilight. I give Edward red eyes, dark intentions and a lust for blood. **

**Big, wet, sloppy kisses for my beta, YellowGlue, who was, and always is, my cheering squad through the long, painful hiatus, and is the Bonnie to my Clyde-ette. I love you so much, pop tart. **

**A big bear hug and cheek pinches for my pre-reader and one of the best fandom besties a girl could have, Nitareality. ****Check out Cloakward; he's another Darkward that is extremely rewarding.**

**And of course, a major shout-out to TwiCharmed and FL95, both of whom have pimped out this story and Hadesward to the best of their ability. I appreciate you guys so much. **

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**BPOV**

He just watched me, a smirk curling those hideous, bloodless lips as I stood there, frozen like a frail deer that just realized it was a powerful mountain lion's quarry. The adrenaline that had rushed through me in those brief, horrific moments, when I realized that he was holding me, _touching me_ with his cold, bony fingers had faded. The memory was enough to make me shudder with residual disgust.

All I felt now was ice.

Icy, like him – like those words had sapped the soul out of me, leaving nothing but an empty core.

_Welcome to Hell, Bella. You should get used to it. This is the only home you'll ever have._

I had no escape anymore. The jig was up. I could feel the others surrounding us, the guards with dark capes and paper-white faces. Their scarlet eyes leered at me, summing me up as fresh meat to the slaughter. The small girl – Alice – stood nearby, her arms crossed over her chest. She no longer looked at me, her narrowed eyes on the man who studied me carefully, as though he were noting every heaving breath, every tentative look, like it was of vital importance.

I couldn't concentrate on the utter hatred in her eyes; try to figure out exactly what had changed in the united front that had faced me before I slipped into unconsciousness.

My eyes scanned over the entrance we stood before, an ominous, gaping maw of a tunnel. Dust and forgotten cobwebs coated the walls. It seemed as old, and as deadly, as the creatures that surrounded me. I did not want to step forward; for a moment, staring into the inky black, I felt as though the tunnel would swallow me, devour me within its endless innards and spit out my bones as a warning for any who would dare follow in my footsteps.

But then again, if they had come this far, it probably wasn't by choice.

Words were carved into the powdery stone. I squinted my eyes to read them, trying to slow my racing heart. I had no doubt that these were my last moments on Earth.

_Why else would he bring me this far? _

I remembered the hunger in his eyes, the sheer fury as my brothers yanked him away from me, and the blood tainting the corner of his perfect mouth.

My blood was what he craved.

And now, there was nothing blocking him from it.

There was no one for me to live for but myself.

"_Per me si va ne la città dolente,_" his voice wrapped around me, soft velvet and dark promises.

I whirled around, my eyes wide. He raised an eyebrow, face deliberating, eyes smoldering as he carefully prowled toward me.

"The words of a human who saw too much, and who suffered the consequences of gazing into a world that was not meant for his kind. It is a similar story; wouldn't you agree, Bella?"

He was forcing me into a corner, back towards the beckoning mouth and unknown depths. The guards parted for me as I stumbled over my feet, at the last moment retracting my flailing hands so that I landed in a heap of limbs.

I couldn't afford an accidental scrape.

There was no need to bait the beast.

"Through me you go to everlasting pain," the words swept effortlessly off his tongue, even as he stalked forward, his eyes holding mine, daring me to look away. "Are you ready for the consequences of your actions, Bella? Do you think you can withstand the promise within these walls?"

Another step, and I could no longer see. He had forced me into the action I was dreading, and now I was standing in the tunnel. Their red eyes gleamed in the dark like rubies; out of the ebony depths came a long, ghostly hand that grasped onto my elbow and forced me forward.

Was it his hand? One of the guards? I couldn't see, and I was almost too frightened to try and look.

The temperature dropped rapidly as I was dragged down into the bowels of the tunnel. My free hand rubbed up and down my arm. I was barely dressed, prepared for a night curled up in the protecting, warm embraces of my family.

How things had changed.

"You should get used to the cold. From now on, this is the only temperature you'll feel," a high-pitched voice interrupted my thoughts from somewhere near my shoulder.

_Alice._

I wasn't sure whether or not I should be relieved that _he_ wasn't the one guiding me.

For a moment, there was silence, and then a harsh growl ripped through the air, making me stumble against the body beside me. The hand was gone, and then a new, firm grip closed around my skin.

"Do not try my patience, Alice," Edward fumed. "You know better than that."

I could hear her enraged huff, the beginning of words spewing forth from her lips.

But then, like a sudden flicker of hope, there was light – tentative at first, just a bobbing orb in the distance, and then spilling forth so that I shielded my eyes, weak after the surrounding night. He kept walking forward confidently, pulling me behind him.

And then, he stopped.

There was a hushed pause, and then I heard the dull thud of a door slowly opening, the screeching protest of old hinges giving way.

I opened my eyes.

"Finally," Jasper announced, his voice jovial as he walked towards Alice, her face transforming into something hideous and beautiful as she ran towards him, letting him drape his arms around her small frame. "It took you long enough. Did you have to drag her all the way, Edward?"

My captor said nothing. His jaw was clenched, eyes distant. His grip was tight on my wrist, tight enough that I knew a bruise would blossom on the skin, purple and ugly. I barely felt it. My attention was completely taken by the large chamber we had entered.

And the girls who I could see, even behind the swelling ranks of the undead who gathered around, staring at their lost member now returning – eying me, some fearfully, some bold and hungry. Some were not much older than me; some looked younger, still with the chubby, well-fed look of a child not yet weaned away from their mother.

Their faces were set in different expressions, but all stared at me.

Young.

Desperate.

Human.

"She was unconscious the whole way here," Edward said, voice tense, apparently answering an unspoken thought in Jasper's mind. "There is no risk to the coven. Besides, she's here. What harm can she do from within?"

If Jasper was going to answer that, he didn't get the chance. Edward turned away from him, his expression transforming into one of utter irritation.

"Victoria!"

One of the girls, a slender redhead kneeling against the wall, stood effortlessly and glided forward. I expected her to quail, to at least flinch when one of the vampires touched her as she passed, but she was utterly calm.

I was envious, and unnerved.

Edward barely looked at her. It was as though she were an insect beneath his feet – existing, but inconsequential.

"Take her with the other girls, and get her settled in," he ordered, and then his eyes focused on her face, sharp with admonition. "And I do not want to hear any other complaints – mental or otherwise."

His fingers flexed once against his side. It was a subtle threat.

She nodded, not looking him in the eye, before she angled her face toward me.

"Follow me."

She swept out of the room, past the vampires, who parted for her in a sea of black capes and pale bodies. Edward looked down at me, still frozen at his side, and raised one eyebrow.

"Well?"

The single, smug word was the catalyst for my paralyzed limbs. I stumbled backwards, before I turned and rushed as quickly as possible in the redhead's wake.

I didn't look back, but I could feel the girls behind me, a single body of hushed voices and quiet footsteps. Victoria strode through a dimly-lit long corridor of dark stone, passing polished wooden doors that I didn't dare interrupt her to ask about. Abruptly, she stopped, and whirled around to face me.

"Well, now that we're out of earshot from Mr. High-and-Mighty Seeker, let's get down to business," she huffed. In the light, I could see her slanted eyes, freckled cheeks flushed, a few stray strands of hair pasted to her forehead with a sheen of sweat.

The other girls surrounded us, completely silent. It was unnerving, feeling them jostling me, pressing close, scuffling their feet nervously against the floor, and not hearing a sound out of any of them.

"What's your name?" Victoria demanded, her eyes narrowed.

I was silent.

Naturally.

After a moment, her face contorted with irritation. Her hand flew out, pushing against my shoulder, propelling me a foot backwards.

"Come on! I don't have time for this whole scared crap. You're a possession of the Hale coven now, just like the rest of us. We've all gone through this. You aren't anything special."

I just stared at her evenly.

She sighed.

"Let me guess, you can't talk?"

It was the wrong situation, and definitely the wrong thing to do when faced with the only allies I would probably have, but I couldn't help the smirk that curled my lips as I nodded my head.

"Great. Just great. The one time Edward actually chooses a girl, and she's a freaking mute."

Victoria rested her hand on her hip, glowering at me.

"I think I can help."

A soft voice broke through the heavy tension, and, like a specter, another girl appeared at Victoria's shoulder. She was smaller, younger to Victoria's apparent twenties, with long bushy brown hair and a small, heart-shaped face. She looked vulnerable and weak, but the steel in her eyes as she pushed past the older girl revealed her to be anything but.

"Do you sign?" She asked me, ignoring Victoria as she mumbled something under her breath about 'nuisances' and 'retarded girls'.

I nodded, relief making my knees weaken as I carefully signed out my name.

_Bella. Call me Bella._

"Bella," she repeated, with a firm nod. "I wish I could say that it's nice to meet you, but considering the circumstances, I doubt it's appropriate. I'm Bree."

There was a pause, and apparently, the brief conversation was a sign for the other girls, who quickly stepped forward and offered names and consolations in a soft buzz of words. There was no way that I would remember them all, but I smiled and nodded and tried to look as though I understood.

"Come, let's show you the common room," Bree said, taking hold of my hand. "It's where all of us girls sleep. There's strength in numbers, especially here. No one has to fend for themselves. We all look out for each other."

I was reminded of my family: my brothers who watched over me as I slept; my sister who fed me and held me close for warmth. A pang echoed through my chest, and I swallowed hard.

Bree led us farther down the corridor, before she stopped in front of two large doors, grasping the handle of one to push it open. I stepped forward, studying the room as the others filed in behind me.

It was larger than any of the apartments in the building I had spent most of my life in, and cleaner than Leah could have ever rendered any of the abandoned rooms. Cots lined the walls, and a fur rug was spread over the cold stone.

"You will spend your nights here," Bree announced, spreading her hand towards the bed. "Choose one. I don't suppose you have any belongings with you. No one ever does."

I shook my head.

I wish I had something to remember my family by; in case Jasper's threat were true.

_In case there was no longer a family for me to ever hope to return to._

"It's probably not what you're accustomed to," Bree said apologetically, misunderstanding the grimace on my face.

Victoria snorted, not at all kindly.

"Too bad. You just have to get used to it. None of us asked for this – and did anyone listen to us?"

She didn't wait for a response.

"Tell me how the newbie gets on. I think I hear James calling my name."

With a swirl of her skirts, she turned on her heel and exited the room, shoving a few girls out of her path. Great. There was another person who couldn't care less whether I lived or died. I looked at Bree, trying to gauge the damage I had caused. She just rolled her eyes.

"Tori is a little…dramatic. Don't worry about her. She's probably just ticked off that Edward –"

She broke off abruptly, her eyes suddenly piercing as she studied my face. Whatever she read there – confusion, most likely, and exhaustion, and fear – was enough for her to press her lips together tightly and shake her head.

"Ignore her. That's what we all do."

She tried to smile reassuringly, parting her chapped lips and baring small, white teeth; human teeth, teeth that would never be stained with blood and death and compromise.

I tried to remind myself of that, even as her unfinished sentence itched under my skin. She was my kind. I had to trust her.

I had to trust _someone._

Or else, I knew I would go insane.

Tentatively, I raised my hands, and began to sign.

_What do they want from us? What are we expected to do?_

A heavy look settled on Bree's face. She looked past me, to the girls who waited in a huddle around the door, eying us each worriedly. Her eyes softened. In that moment, she didn't look like a child. She was a mother reaching out to her frightened children, offering them what she could of warmth and comfort, before she turned them away back to the harsh world.

"Don't worry about us. We'll be fine. Get back to work. I don't want you to get into trouble."

They reluctantly dispersed, faces turning back to look at her with brief, touching uncertainty before they slipped through the door. I watched them go, the quiet, sure way they moved. When I turned back to Bree, she was sitting down on one of the cots. She caught my eye, gave me a small smile, and patted the area beside her.

"Come here. I don't bite."

She bared her teeth again, playfully. I tried to ignore the quirk of fate in her words, and sat down. I could not settle my nerves. Everything about this place grated the wrong way on my uneasy soul. I could smell the sickly-sweet aroma of the vampires, the entrancing, deadly aura that hung in their wake long after they had moved past.

I was in the nest of the creatures that I had prided myself only a few hours ago on capturing.

It was the worst kind of irony.

"I don't know what your story is," she began, softly, her voice careful, as though she were trying her best not to offend me. "I don't know how Edward found you, or why he has brought you here. This world – this life – is one that I wouldn't wish on anyone, and I'm sorry that you were dragged here against your will. But then again," and she smiled bitterly, "like Tori said, most of us didn't get a chance to choose, either."

My head was lowered, studying the pristine white sheets spread over the cot beneath us; still, though, I didn't miss her choice of words.

_Most of us didn't get a chance to choose, either._

I filed this away in my mind, even as she continued.

"That being said, this is your life now. So, it's best to make sure that you're prepared."

She took a deep breath and eyed me for a moment. I tried to look as sane and reassuring as possible.

"You are now considered Edward's property." The words were bitter, halting, as though speaking them was as hard on her psyche as it was for me to hear. "You will be expected to do exactly as he says, when he says it. Disobedience will be punished accordingly – or worse."

She rubbed her right arm, as though remembering something painful from the past.

"No other vampire will be able to touch you without his consent. But," she added, her eyes serious as they stared into mine, "that doesn't mean you are completely safe. Edward isn't the only person you need to fear here. There are things in this world that are worse than death."

I looked into her stern, steel gray eyes, and a shiver went down my spine. Perhaps it was premonition. Perhaps the chill of her words brought back the feel of Edward's hand against my arm, that hungry look in his eyes as he sauntered towards me, pressing me deeper into his world – bending me under his control.

But, in that moment, I knew.

I knew that, no matter what happened from this point forward, I had to survive.

For my brothers.

For my sanity.

For that chance of escape, as slim and illusory it might seem.

In Bree's eyes, I saw no hope, and that broken spirit burgeoned my own, made something in my spine straighten and blood pulse through my veins.

_Has anyone tried to escape? There is no way out? _I signed fiercely, my brow furrowed as I spelled out the words.

She sighed, and gave me a look. Even though Bree's face was still unfamiliar and new, it was an expression I had seen before – on Sam's face, whenever he thought I'd done something particularly haphazard; twisting Jacob's lips as I boldly ignored his commands and laughed in the face of his authority.

It was the look of an elder scolding a child, warning them of the consequences of their actions.

I didn't care.

I couldn't lose my hope.

I would die if I did.

"Just, be careful," she murmured, a resigned look coming over her face. "We try our best to look out for each, but the predators single out those who are weak. Edward –" Her lips twisted as she said her name. It was apparent that he wasn't her favorite vampire out of the bunch. "He chose you. For what reason, God only knows. But it worries me. Please, just be careful."

I nodded, once. I knew what Edward was capable of. I knew his kind. It was a warning that I had learned for myself time and time again.

She patted my hand, a surprisingly old-woman gesture for her age.

"You look cold. You'll need a new pair of clothes, and maybe a shower. Vampires take personal hygiene very seriously. There's nothing more unappealing about a snack than a sweaty stench."

She tried to laugh at her own joke, but it fell flat. I was hardly paying attention anymore. My mind replayed everything that she had just told me. I couldn't help but think of Edward; and, as much as I hated to believe it, I knew that Bree was right.

Edward wanted me dead.

And now, I was at his mercy.

Bree disappeared into another door that I hadn't even noticed. I sat on the edge of the bed, biting on my lip, mulling over my thoughts. Outside, I could hear a quiet, steady hum of activity. Once or twice, a voice rose above the even flow; desperate, shrill, _needy_.

I shuddered.

_You are now considered his property._

Were there other girls who were claimed, too? Did they all have to answer to the beck and call of the bloodsuckers? The cold, heartless creatures that my brothers had boasted about eviscerating from the city?

It was humbling, and frightening, how I realized now that we were riding on a vain dream. Had my brothers even known about this tumor, this deadly cluster of poison living directly beneath us? How many times had we congratulated ourselves on a job well done, simply by ridding ourselves of one, two, three stragglers – when in reality, so many more seethed beneath the surface.

We hadn't even made a dent in their ranks.

And now, they had completely wiped us out.

I might be the only one left.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

My heart lurched to a stop, and then started again, double-speed, as my head snapped up. He was leaning against the doorway, the light shining behind him, transforming him into a deadly, dark silhouette. I hadn't even heard him approach.

My eyes darted to the door where Bree had disappeared. There was no movement.

"Come now, I can't be that frightening, can I?"

His tone was taunting, eyes dancing with some wicked, frightening sort of mirth that instantly set my nerves on edge. He stepped forward, just one inch closer to me – graceful, the dance of the careful predator as he prepared for the pounce.

I instinctively pressed myself back against the bed. It was foreign to see the smile curling his lips. It almost made him look human, as the granite lines of his face eased out and his expression relaxed. He couldn't have been older than me when he was turned – late teens, early twenties, barely a man and no longer a boy.

But his eyes were still the blood-red of a murderer.

And that was enough to make me crawl backwards against the cold sheets, searching for something – anything – that I could use to defend myself.

He was there, by my side. In a flash, he was there, pinning me against the sheets, pressing his body down onto mine in the way of a lover, resting his head against my chest, cold and iron-solid.

I couldn't scream.

I couldn't breathe.

"Don't move," he grit out; marble-smooth lips touched against my collarbone. It was an unnecessary order. My limbs seemed to have forgotten the concept of movement. My hands were like weak birds, fluttering against his solid chest.

His nose nuzzled into the soft flesh of my neck. I stiffened, but he didn't move back.

"Do you know, how long I dreamed of this? Being able to feel you, touch you –"

His tongue flicked out of his mouth in a reptilian gesture, touching against my skin, cold and wet. I shuddered.

"_Taste you_," he breathed out, a soft exhale that brought with it a surge of candy-sweet air that twisted my stomach into knots and made my heart skip faster until I felt as though it would burst out of my chest with fear and disgust and hate.

I finally found the courage within me, curled and trembling somewhere within my rib cage. I summoned up all my strength, forced it through my weakened wrists and shoved. It was not even enough strength to propel the chubby, undeveloped legs of a toddler.

But it angered him. His eyes narrowed, and with the quick strike of a snake, his fingers curled around my wrists, forcing them down, bending the muscles and bone until I let out a sharp cry of pain.

"Let's get something straight, Bella," he snarled, his eyes blazing, lips curled. "We're no longer playing on your territory. You can't hide behind your beloved mutts, feel so high and mighty that because of their protection, you can bring me to my knees."

He bared his teeth in a grotesque imitation of a grin. His words were terrible, and beautiful, and I found myself unable to look away, unable to ignore the shackles that he was winding around my pride, my hopes and my freedom.

The door creaked open behind us. My eyes flashed away from Edward's face. Bree stood there, a mess of clothes spilling over her pale arms, color draining away from her cheeks.

"Leave!" Edward roared, voice raw with hunger and eyes full of righteous fury. I was frightened for a moment that he would forget me, whirl on the only friend I had here and use her as a target for his wrath. But my worries were unfounded. The clothes fell abandoned on the cold stone floor. A choked sob cracked through the air, and Bree whirled from the room. I stared after her, horror sinking slowly into my veins.

We were alone now.

I was alone with Edward.

He stared down at me, eyes wild and triumphant.

"You're no longer holding the trigger, Bella," he panted. "And you'd better watch how you push my finger."

And then, he leaned forward, and his lips pressed against my throat, small, smooth butterfly kisses across, up and down, over the arrhythmic fluttering of my pulse.

And as his teeth broke the fragile skin, I squeezed my eyes tightly and prayed to a God I was sure would not answer my pleas – if only to keep the screams at bay.

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**Stalk Hadesward on Twitter. He's looking for new victims to torment - er, talk to.**

**Look out for teasers and surprise previews on the blog (beyondtheseventhcircle(dot)blogspot(dot)com) and the Twi'd thread (http:/www(dot)twilighted(dot)net/forum/viewtopic(dot)php?f=33&t=11279&start=0&st=0&sk=t&sd=a)**


	13. EPOV Out for Blood

**I do not own Twilight. However, I do like to think that I own Hadesward, his penchant for Bella's blood, dark Twitter flirtations, and striped stockings. **

**Of course, that might be just wishful thinking.**

**The usual, very very much deserved round of hugs, kisses and cheek pinches to YellowGlue, my beloved bestie/beta/pop tart, for her magical red pen and just being there for me when I need it the most. I love you, girlie, so much.**

**Nitareality, one of the most wonderful people in this fandom, and another one of those ladies that I cannot live without now that I've found her, is my pre-reader. Hadesward thinks that she's the best thing since fresh blood, but don't tell him I said that.**

**Hadesward is up for a Hidden Star Awards, under the What an Asshole (Best Bad Guy) category. If you love him, do us a favor and put in a good word for him - not that his actions really require a nice turn, but it would make the author really happy.**

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Jasper was leaning against the wall as Edward staggered out of the room.

He felt drunk, weaving back and forth as the very floor seemed to stagger beneath his feet. Her blood was much better than any wine; more potent and drugging, and utterly addictive. Even though he had just been at her neck, letting his teeth tear effortlessly through her silken skin, and felt the endless stream of ambrosia wetting his lips, he still felt the hunger.

He flicked his tongue over his drenched teeth, tasted her there and wanted more.

_Once was never enough._

"Looking at your face, I'm getting a little worried about that poor girl. She is still breathing, isn't she?"

Jasper's tone was suffused with amusement, and utter condescension. If he was in his right mind, Edward would have challenged his audacity to patronize him, taunted him with the knowledge that he had control, the ability to hold back the blood-lusting beast within and leave the human girl behind – frail, battered, but still breathing, still with her tenacious thread clinging to the mortal world.

Something that Jasper would never be able to accomplish.

"She lives," he said instead, shortly. He paused momentarily to note the flash of annoyance in his quasi brother-in-law's eyes. He could not bite back the smirk of triumph. "Whether or not that will last, is my decision and mine alone."

It was a subtle threat to Jasper's authority, and one that Edward knew only he could get away with. He despised Jasper, his hold over the coven and the constant threat – a sword on a thin thread, dangling above his neck – the fact that whether Edward liked it or not, there was a leader that held more power in the ranks than he.

Edward might be under his thumb.

But Bella was not.

Jasper's thoughts became irritatingly loud; a nest of dormant snakes roused to action, their fangs poised, venom dripping in every word.

_She was supposed to be dealt with before you returned to the coven. _

"You were supposed to get concerned about my absence after the first few hours," Edward countered coldly, and then, realizing he was still standing before the solid doors, slowly made his way down the corridor. The temptation of knowing that she was only separated from him by a few layers of wood might be too much for his self-control.

She needed to stay alive.

For now, at least.

Jasper quickly fell in step beside him, his eyes sharp, lips tight. He reminded Edward of a terrier –the type of annoying yapper who believed it was bigger than it actually was, the kind that sank in its teeth and held on.

"It was routine. I checked out the place beforehand, and nothing seemed to be off. Sam was supposed to respect the agreement; he got too cocky. It was a good thing that he showed his true colors before his disease spread to the other subordinates in the area."

Jasper's voice was full of distaste. He had taken special care to make sure that there were no threats to his precious kingdom; one of which was making sure the other local inhuman communities stayed out of sight, and under his foot.

_The worst threat to the throne is always from within._

It was almost a pity that Jasper didn't seem to keep that lesson in mind. It would make it less interesting when Edward finally broke down his foundation right beneath his feet.

He hated an easy victory.

"There's something about this girl – something that makes her valuable enough for the mutts to protect her with their lives," he hissed. Jasper couldn't seem to keep his thoughts off Bella's throat – white, swan-like, delicate…the way that the blood swelled in her cheeks when she was frightened, how the veins pulsed with the contraction of her heart –

"Pity that you won't share her, though," Jasper commented, his voice harsh, void of any humor that could have justified the remark in his compatriot's eyes.

Edward snapped.

Jasper was pressed to the wall, his eyes wide, a snarl escaping his lips as Edward's teeth scraped threateningly against his shoulder.

"She is mine," he rasped. "I have claimed her, by the rules that _you yourself_ laid down. Don't try to push me, Jasper. You might hold the authority, but we both know who has more control."

There was a screeching of dead flesh and bone as Jasper whirled, tossing off his assaulter, pouncing on Edward so that he was flat against the stone floor. They glared at each other, mouths agape, leering threateningly.

"I hold the authority, Edward," Jasper snapped. His eyes were wild, red irises with no sign of any white to aid in the charade of humanity. "You've just admitted that yourself. You should think less about your own control, and think more about pushing me too far."

The words hung in the air, thick with threats and unspoken promises. Edward was not frightened of Jasper. He had always regarded the elder vampire with a mixture of repulsion and disdain. Everything about him seemed to ooze a demanding sort of insecurity – the ostentatious scars, the eternal marks of his years among the wild southern clans, the stipulation for order, and complete, unwavering obedience from his subordinates.

All heard and obeyed. They kowtowed before him, slavered at his feet and brought him what he wanted, when he wanted it.

Except for Edward.

It was a defiant tension that rested between them – one that Edward knew he would never break, not by bending his spirit to Jasper's will, not by following his orders with the same blind trust that his familiars showed in their actions.

Not by handing over Bella.

_His girl._

_His trophy._

"You won't touch her, Jasper," he snarled. The venom coated his words, even as it rolled over his tongue, dripped off his teeth at the response to Jasper's audacious thoughts.

_Pinning her down, her wide brown eyes glazed with fear and desperation – and resignation, knowing that she cannot escape, knowing she cannot get away in time._

_Leaning down, kissing down her soft collarbone – so sweet, so young, such a waste but her blood smells so good, must taste so good…_

Edward could no longer tolerate it when Jasper imagined the way her skin would give against his teeth, how the blood would spill into his mouth, trickling down his throat.

"Touch her, and you will die."

There was a pause – a heavy pause as the challenge to Jasper's power sank in. His eyes narrowed as he stared at his most valuable player, and saw the determination and possession in Edward's crimson eyes.

_He's serious. He's never wanted something so much before._

His thoughts were a twisted mess, strands of disconnected ideas and confusion. Edward took the opportunity to walk away, ignoring the angered bellow of his name behind him.

He needed to clear his head.

Somewhere away from any more curious interrupters.

Jasper's errant thought had pulled a chord in his mind, brought back the feelings of unfamiliar, baleful uncertainty that plagued him on the silent ride back to the coven's lair. Looking down at that silent, pale face – _Bella, his challenge, a puzzle that he could not piece together _– realizing that possibility, a road into a future he hadn't thought of before he saw those wide brown eyes, and felt the silence.

Thick.

Impenetrable.

Insolent.

She would not yield to his advances. He had pulled at the torn flesh, lapped up the sweet, thick blood as it stained the sheets beneath her clenched fists – and she hadn't cried out.

Not once.

He could see the strain in her face, the way she squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to show him the pain that he inflicted on her frail body. Her teeth worried the thin flesh of her lips, biting through until he could smell the new injury on her skin, another drop of blood to bring the shark to a heightened frenzy.

But she didn't scream.

She didn't move.

It was another act of insubordination, a frustration that made him grind his teeth just remembering it. He wanted to shake her, to force her to cry out, to prove his power over her – to show that had some effect on her, that he still had the ability to wrench emotions from his victims, make them know who was in control.

"_Fuck_," he grunted, pushing his hand through his hair. He needed a bath. Her fragrance still clung to him, heady, and tempting – the lure of the siren calling him back to the arms of the seductress.

If it had been any other girl, another unfortunate creature – desperate, needy, the helpless victim that had fallen into the spider's carefully woven web of deception – he would return to the room. He would press her back, rip open her neck, and suckle upon her until her eyes stared forward, blank and empty.

Now, he could not take the chance of going too far. The blood beast could not break through his tenuous hold on control.

He stood before the door to his room. Having a bedroom seemed more a charade than anything else – a frivolity for a creature who could not sleep. He had often wished for the interlude of slumber, the silence of a quiet, blank mind. He had enough of dreams – his own, and the interlopers of others' minds: sick, twisted ideas and wishes that often were realized, things that sometimes he wished he could forget.

He pushed through the wooden door, barely glancing at the change of clothes strewn over the leather couch – a thick scent of young human blood and harsh soap, one of the girls under the coven's reign that had been goaded into entering Edward's quarters. They were all frightened to death of him, something that he rather enjoyed, and appreciated.

It ensured that he was very rarely interrupted.

He threw himself back on the bed, the mattress springs shrieking out in protest under the sudden oppressive weight. His hands propped up his head as he stared at the scarred ceiling. Despite the closed doors, the thick tapestries against the stone walls, he could still hear the voices.

…_Got to tell him…shit, I wasn't supposed to…_

_More detergent. These blood stains don't seem to want to come out._

He sighed, turned over on his side and groaned out loud in frustration. In those moments, lying on top of Bella's warm body, in that complete, unbreakable silence, it had been so easy to forget that as soon as he left her presence, the endless buzz would batter his brain, tear at his sanity, dig under his skin until he wanted to rip it off.

He was sick of it all.

And now, she was here – the key to his escape.

If he could only figure out the best way to go about it.

He tried to filter out the voices and concentrate on one mental thread – his own. He tracked back faces and legends, trying to match Bella's blank mind and the call of her blood to stories he had heard from nomads that had crossed his path and shared their secrets.

Something tugged at his memories, trying to fit into place – to remind him, to bring it into the light – but then, he heard the shrill voice that could not be ignored, and the irritation bubbled in his gut like the venom rising beneath his tongue.

_Edward. Edward. Edward._

"You locked the door," she snapped, even as he could hear the give of old wood and the crack of bronze under an insistent hand. Another door to be fixed – another blow between Edward and Jasper.

Not that he cared.

She was standing there, hip pushed out so far he was surprised she could stand properly. Of course, his eyes were distracted by what she was wearing – or the lack thereof. Victoria's Secrets models had nothing on Tanya Denali when she was looking to seduce a man.

The pink silk blended with her pale limbs, the long legs that moved purposefully toward him, and the bloodless lips that she bit in a coy, almost human manner as she crawled on top of him, her eyes eager and hungry.

_A succubus with her eyes on her next fix._

"What's the matter, Edward?" She cooed. "I thought we had something together. I know we haven't had time together, but believe me, I haven't wanted to neglect you. You're a man that is…hard…to forget. I was so worried about you when you were gone, you know – but that was a foolish emotion, because honestly who can keep you down for long?"

She chuckled, a sound that was supposed to be low and sweet, but somehow grated on his nerves as the sickly-sweet smell of her arousal thickened the air. As she laid her head on his chest, he stiffened up, hearing the steady chant in her thoughts.

_Mine. Edward. Mine._

She was jealous.

He could see the brown eyes, wide and unsuspecting, the way he had ignored Tanya in the desire to hustle Bella away from the hands of the mutts – how he had protected her, shunned anyone else's touch in his need to possess her.

Tanya did not like rivals.

"There is nothing between us," he said coldly, raising his hands and pushing her back. "I made it clear that night, Tanya."

_A mutual itch to be scratched, nothing more._

He had made it clear, so desperate as he'd been with his own need. Self-fulfillment could only help a man along for so long – and Edward was used to getting his needs fulfilled, when he wanted. She was there, desperate, her legs spread for him – wanton, agreeing with every word he said as she pulled him down to meet her lips.

And of course, like a typical slut, she was stepping back on her word as soon as she had gotten a taste of what she wanted.

Tanya wasn't a fool. As much as she batted her lashes and pushed out her puffy lips, Edward knew there was a clever mind behind the façade of the brainless secondary. She had her ax to grind, her plans to fulfill, and Edward was the man that could lead her to the glory she believed she deserved.

She pouted, eyes flashing with a hint of the storm he knew was rising in her. If there was anything succubi hated most in the world, it was rejection – as long as they were on the receiving end of the dismissal.

_Playing hard to get, aren't we?_

In spite of the irritation of the moment, Edward bit back a smirk.

_She has no idea who she's trying to play, does she?_

"You said that it was a one-night thing," she concurred, her voice brisk as she acknowledged the fact he didn't want her near him – _not yet at least_ – and moved a few feet away. Her lips were pressed in a thin line, arms crossed underneath her breasts. He tried not to look – really, he did – but at the end of the day, despite the years of training and the detestation that seared through him as he stared at Tanya's scheming eyes, he was still a man.

"And yet, you're still here," he pointed out, raising a deliberate eyebrow as his eyes cut to the closed door.

_Leave. Just leave. _

Edward hated having to constantly look at his mistakes. It nagged at him, reminded him that despite his age, his experience, _his efficiency_, there were moments when even the great hunter slipped up.

Tanya's lips pulled back from her teeth, exposing her white canines, a low snarl coming forth from her throat as she realized Edward was not paying attention to her ploy.

It didn't frighten him.

All he wanted to do was bend her over his knee and snap her pathetic neck in two.

"I don't spend the night with just anyone, Edward," she hissed. It seemed to be a great effort, but she held herself back, forced her lips into a grotesque imitation of a smile. "I chose you because of who you are – powerful, strong, and authorative. Jasper may be the leader of the coven, but you, Edward – you're the true commander."

He had to concede that was true. Still though, flattery could not turn his mind away from reading hers: the way that those brown eyes flashed across her mind's eye, the way she imagined Bella, crumpled, pale, _drained_, against the dirty tiles.

_Dead._

_Kill her._

_End the problem._

"She's not your rival, Tanya," he answered the sordid, murderous thoughts, his face disgusted. Tanya had no class when it came to killing. It was just another reason to regret that night. If he had only been able to hold on longer, perhaps convinced one of the timid human girls into his room, and then his bed…

Tanya's wrist flew out toward him. He caught it in mid-air, pressed his fingers around the hard flesh, and squeezed, as hard as he could. He waited until her eyes bulged slightly and her lips parted in a heavy hiss of pain.

"And, she is _not_ yours to touch," he grit out. "She is _mine_. You should get that through your dirty, sex-obsessed mind right now, succubus. There is no competition, because there is nothing to fight over. You knew what you were getting yourself into."

He pushed her back, watched as she stumbled and caught herself, lips trembling. He did not feel any remorse. It was another act, an attempt to appeal to the natural male imperative – to rescue the wounded damsel, to ease her pain and wipe away her tears.

But she wasn't an innocent damsel.

She was a bloodthirsty, vengeful monster, just like him.

_Unlike Bella._

She confirmed it when her lips twisted with fury, when her eyes burned and her teeth bared as she made her final attempt to sink her claws into Edward.

"You're going to regret this, Edward," she sneered. "Oh, right now, you feel so high and mighty – like you've won something. But just wait. I might not touch your precious little human, but someone else will. She's just another girl, another blood bag to be drained – and sooner or later, there will be a predator stronger than you to end your little game of Keep Away."

She started toward the door. Edward just watched her go, his hands clenched into fists. He couldn't kill her, not now when he had already pushed Jasper's envelope already farther than it could go. The percussions would be severe, too much for him to handle at the moment – not before he had a proper plan of action.

But he wanted to.

More than anything.

"You'd better keep an eye on your beloved Bella," she grinned wickedly over her shoulder at him, eyes glinting. "Before she's snatched right out from underneath your nose."

Then, she was gone. He spread back out on the bed, resisting the urge to follow her and slam her up against the wall until her bones ground together and broke down into a useless pile of dust.

_Impertinent slut. _

Now, he had two vampires out for blood. It was nothing that he couldn't handle, though – not without the right planning.

Bella's ties with the mortal world were cut. Her hours as a human were numbered.

He knew it.

Jasper knew it.

The only problem that stood in Edward's way was, _Why?_

_What makes this girl so important?_

_Why am I drawn to her?_

He lay there for the rest of the night, staring up at the ceiling, and wondering how one human could complicate his whole existence.

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	14. BPOV Shreds of Humanity

**I do not own Twilight. I thought I owned Hadesward, but with every chapter he takes great pleasure in proving me wrong. **

**There are no amount of words in the world to describe how much I love my Bonnie, YellowGlue, my bestie with the mad awesome red-penning skills and the beautiful story-telling. Look out for her new story Tripping, Slipping, Stumbletumbling - it's going to be epic. **

**Hugs, kisses and endless thanks to the beautiful Nitareality for pre-reading. She's a gorgeous, amazing person and if you haven't treated yourself to Bloody Choices, well - I don't know what to tell you.**

**NOTICE: There is going to be a readalong for Beyond the Seventh Circle, thanks to the lovely YellowGlue. For deets, PM me or get in touch with her, because she's hosting.**

**There are so many acknowledgements I can give, but at the end of the day, they won't be enough. Thank you. 3**

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**BPOV**

Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

It was enough for me to wish that I were back among my warm-skinned, fiery-tempered brothers; stumbling for words and a common ground with my sister as she cooked me breakfasts I forced myself to choke down; quarreling with Jacob about a future that, at the time, I believed would be worse than death.

I was foolish. Like the story Embry had once shared with me of Cassiopeia: forever doomed to rue that which she had been so proud of, I was wrenched from the safe haven I believed would last forever. I was cast into a world of creatures that I had once held the upper hand over, that I had laughed at and dispelled into the back of my mind as a fairytale – a child's nightmare that was easily broken with a flashlight and a mother's warm arms as her child was lulled back to sleep.

My hubris had overcome me, and it was worse than anything I could ever imagine.

After Edward had…fed wasn't the right word, though the memory of his rasping tongue, his teeth pressing deep into my skin, ripping unmercifully even as the venom seared the open wound like salt, was enough to make me shiver and realize that he had been eating me alive, from the inside out, as I lay there frozen under him.

_Devoured._

He had devoured me.

He had sucked and licked and worried out every last drop until I was nearly out of my mind with the loss of blood and was sure that he meant to drain me on that stark, uniform cot – leave me there pale and broken, my face matching the blank emptiness of the sheets, for poor Bree or Victoria or any other person who cared to find my remains.

Or for another of his kind to stumble upon my corpse and scavenge the leftovers.

I shuddered, pulling the dress Bree had brought me closer about my skinny frame, before I tried to pay attention to the scene before me. Girls fluttered around me like wounded birds, drained eyes and colorless hands appearing white and dead against their monochrome frocks – the omen to a mutual ending.

I couldn't count myself out of the gruesome equation, and it worried me.

It had taken me a few days to adjust to the rigid schedule the human girls followed. The vampires did not seem to wield any power over their actions – at least, extensively. It had startled me at first, when I realized sometime during the second day that I hadn't seen any human girl assaulted by a vampire, or even touched. They drifted by, crimson eyes occasionally darting toward a particularly healthy looking specimen, a frail neck or plump arms.

They did not pounce.

There was no blood, no sudden scream as an unfortunate victim met a brutal and painful death.

And yet, despite this invisible boundary between the living and the undead, there was still a feeling of superiority, as though the vampires understood that there was no escape for us.

There was no escape for me.

If Edward snapped his fingers, I'd have to obey his command.

Or I would die.

"Claimed," Bree had explained to me, over and over again in complex hand motions, a sort of tender pity in her eyes as she watched my brow furrow. It wasn't a hard concept to grasp.

I knew, even as I saw the silent obedience of the others around me, faces I couldn't name but emotions that I could understand and felt deep within me – the way that they bowed silently to the invisible iron fists that bent them into submission, how they disappeared at random hours in the night, called by voices I barely heard, into situations I did not want to think about.

Even as I watched the girls seemingly move like clockwork of their own design, I knew about the silent hierarchy of this new world. I knew that ultimately, there was no freedom, and no escape.

But that didn't make it any easier to accept.

Bree was at the center of the silent hum of activity, grasping the edge of a threadbare quilt and helping another nameless girl to spread it across the cold stone. It was an unspoken agreement between all the girls to keep the room as warm as possible. Blankets were borrowed and given generously. It wasn't surprising to find one of your roommates curled up beside you in the middle of the night for warmth.

No one wanted the alternative.

Or the inevitable memories the chill would bring as it spread along goose-bumped flesh and fresh wounds.

_I certainly didn't._

"Bella," Bree smiled at me invitingly, a tired look in her eyes as I obediently padded to her side, shucking off my shoes before I plopped on the quilt. The other girls huddled around, a few shuddering as they rubbed their arms – thin blood and cotton were never a good combination.

I tried not to pay attention to a sharp inhale as fingers tentatively prodded bruised flesh, the soft whimpers and the crack of the medical kit opening as Bree began to scan the damages sustained. Vampires were extremely possessive of their claimed humans – "blood in a pretty package," Bree said bitterly, "just the way the bloodsuckers like it. Everything has to be beautiful when it comes to them."

Other vampires could not even lay a finger on a vampire's chosen 'drink' without the threat of instant extinction. Wrath was sudden, irrational, and severe.

However, when it came to the 'owner' itself, liberties could be, and were, taken.

I closed my eyes, trying not to think of my own wound – a crescent-shaped scar that ached against my collarbone – or how it had gotten there.

"How does it feel?"

Bree was eying me with a look of almost-familiar concern. It brought a lump to my throat, reminding me of Sam and the way he would prod at my wounds, examining them for remaining venom and wrap them as gently as if he were treating a newborn child.

_Sam._

_My brother._

I had lost my brother, and gained a new sister in return. Shouldn't I be grateful that someone up there still cared enough about my inconsequential existence to make sure I wasn't alone?

_No. The trade-off wasn't worth it. It would never be worth it._

I tried to smile weakly in response to her question. Bree was similar to Sam in so many ways. She was not the eldest of the girls, or the strongest; and yet, everyone seemed to depend on her sure, calm presence. She was sought out for medical aid, for advice and comfort when the despair seemed to hang over all of us like a thick, damp fog.

Even the vampires seemed to move out of her way when she strode through the hallways, eyes glaring malevolently at her retreating back, but not attempting to act on the malice that rushed through those red eyes.

Being around Bree, seeing how the girls ran to her like chicks to a mother hen, and how even the vampires avoided the steadfast look on her face, reminded me of what it used to be like to have a mother.

There was so much I still didn't know about the new life that had abruptly engulfed me. I still did not understand the bonds between the girls whose blank eyes and desperate lives paralleled my own. I could not recognize the vampires from one another, differentiate cold ruby gazes and chilling touches – save one.

And I didn't want to think about _him_.

Not now.

I looked back at Bree, gently bandaging up a small girl's leg, her head bent over the girl's, hair mixing together as she spoke soft and soothingly.

There was so much I didn't know about her.

I asked once, when it was just us together. There was a small, abandoned alcove off the side of the hall, a dusty, musty room that a previous human's presence and perseverance had graced into a usable kitchen. Food was one essential that Jasper's indomitable rule could not filter from the humans – unlike the light of the sun, or the sweet fresh air above ground.

Bree's head was tilted over a pot, stirring a thick stew with the careful precision she used in taking care of the girls' needs. I watched her, hip resting against the dirty counter spanning the room. She had been here a long time, one of the younger claims had confided in me.

"She's very special," the little girl chirruped, a smile spanning her lips and exposing a gap between her baby teeth. Bree's mention was enough to cheer up even the dullest of inmates. She brought them hope and sunshine, the substances that Jasper and his court would deny them until they wasted away from the bleakness of the situation. "That's why they keep her. The bloodsuckers like Miss Bree. They know she isn't trouble."

I waited another moment, the thought itching at the back of my brain, until I couldn't take it anymore and I tapped her on the shoulder. She seemed to have been drifting away in her own thoughts, because she gave a little jump as she turned to face me. Recognition flooded into her eyes after a moment, and she smiled.

"Bella. Sorry about that. I'm a bit all over the place today."

She tried to laugh, but for once the sound was surprisingly empty of any cheer. I mulled over that for a moment, before I remembered the question I'd had in mind for her. Slowly, I raised my hands and carefully began to sign the words.

_All the girls here – they have a vampire who…claimed them, right?_

Bree propped one hand on her hip, a frown tugging at the corners of her lips. The comfortable, easy atmosphere that had existed between us dissipated until I wasn't even sure if it had existed. I had asked Bree questions before, in the handful of days since I arrived, about the dynamics of the coven, the vampires and their placements in the 'nest', as they referred to it – as much as I dared, without straying too close to the subject of _him _and his position, the power that he wielded with one cold smirk or a raised eyebrow.

_I didn't want to know him._

My avoidance was a foolish, childish sort of protest – a feeble tantrum that would probably only bring that sickening, amused light to his eyes and that quirk to his lips.

Quil had once told me playfully that a tiger could only be brought down by a hunter who knew his tricks. I needed to know about Edward. I needed to know, so that I could release myself from the steady grasp of stone he was pressing around me.

I needed to know so that I could destroy him, before he destroyed me.

And yet, somehow, it felt as though that knowledge would cripple me – that knowing the full extent of what he was, his thoughts and motivations, how that cold, drained heart ticked, would crush me, make me realize that ultimately in our game of Predator and Prey, he had already won.

He had captured me.

He had bit me – raped me in a way by ripping back my skin and plundering my veins.

"Yes," Bree answered me slowly, that tense look still on her face. Her entire body seemed to be carved of stone, still and motionless. Her eyes never left mine, as though she were probing my thoughts, trying to figure out my mental processes before I could express them. "Vampires do not need to depend on humans for anything other than blood. They're dead, Bella. They don't need housekeepers or gourmet chefs. To them, we're nothing more than food."

Her tone was flat, straight to the point. Somehow, I couldn't help feeling as though I'd touched a raw nerve.

Like Pandora's fingers, insistent as they pried off the lid of the forbidden box, I was compelled to add, hesitantly, _So doesn't that mean that you're – claimed, as well?_

I regretted it immediately afterwards. A sudden flame seemed to blaze in her eyes, deadly with its heat – almost hateful – before they closed off completely and she turned away from me physically, back to the pot and her previous preoccupation.

"Yes," she mumbled. "Yes, I am claimed."

And then, she was silent.

Her reaction surprised me, even as it cultivated the appropriate guilt. It wasn't my place to ask. If I had wanted to know – needed, even – she would have told me.

And yet, I couldn't help but wonder about the tight look on her face, the way her eyes had smoldered at me before she turned away.

_Why __**hadn't**__ she wanted to speak about the claim?_

The little girl's words came back to me in a dull, hollow echo: "_The bloodsuckers like Miss Bree. They know she isn't trouble."_

I hated myself, the constant suspicions that jolted through my brain, a lifetime of second-guessing and looking over my shoulder at the encroaching shadows – never able to settle down, not able to take a moment's rest without that constant worry, that urge of self-preservation that made me almost paranoid in my awareness of my surroundings.

Bree touched the side of my neck tenderly, bringing me back to the real world, a sorrowful look in her eyes. I had tried not to look at the gash of abused skin, not since the first moment after he left me there, dazed and aching, the warm liquid still spilling over the tattered wound. Surely I wasn't a pretty sight.

_It could have been worse, _I pointed out, my fingers quick in an attempt of brevity that I knew would be lost in translation. My hands could not transfer the desperation of my thoughts, the need to take the bite out of the moment and restore lightness to our situation.

I needed to be able to trust Bree.

I needed to laugh with her, to see her smile as she pulled her fingers away from the mark of Edward's ownership, for us to be able to set the harsh realities away and just be two friends, human, naïve.

_As if that were even possible._

She frowned at me and shook her head, dismissing my remark, already fumbling with bandages and antiseptic.

"It could get infected," she muttered. "He didn't inject the venom, did he?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't admit to her, or myself, that there wasn't much I remembered about my time with Edward, not after his teeth had compromised my flesh and sank through to the ambrosia he craved. It was a blur of his voice and the smell of my blood, and the pain – harsh, burning, and dizzying.

My stomach gave a sickening lurch as I realized that, for all I knew, my blood could be contaminated.

Edward was above the laws of the other vampires. I had realized that, even before I had asked Bree about the coven and their laws, even before I'd seen the way the claims were treated by their owners. A claim's blood could not be compromised by the venom. As the leader, Jasper held full sway over his subjects, and turning a human was one of the most important laws.

A newborn was more than an untrained complication – it could compromise the privacy of the coven, become a menace if allowed to feed off the human populace without moderation. But with the right lessons, it could become more. With unparalleled strength, a fresh mind and able faculties, it would be nothing less than a perfect weapon.

Jasper could not afford the threat to his position, not from a worthless underling – not from a former human servant who didn't know the expanses of her new strength.

But Edward – for Edward, the consequences would be different.

I hadn't missed the looks that passed between him and Jasper. I was walking through the hall at one point, looking for Bree. I had passed Jasper leaning against a wall, casually, almost as though he was waiting for someone to join him. I didn't dare look at him; the callous, sardonic leader unnerved me almost as much as his bronze-haired second.

He hadn't looked at me, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being observed, that crawling nervous sensation of spiders trickling down my spine. I sped up my steps, but suddenly he was there in front of me, his eyes wide and glassy as he stared down at me and my frightened expression.

I don't know what he would have done.

I don't want to think about it.

If I had been a lesser vampire's claim, I know that I wouldn't have escaped that moment alive – or, at least, with a beating heart. Jasper was above all laws that he had laid down. If he wanted to drain me, or turn me, he could do so without any repercussions.

But I was Edward's.

And he was there, pushing me back against the wall so that the hard barrier knocked the wind out of my chest, sinking me to the floor with my hand over my thrumming heart. He tackled Jasper and pressed him to the ground, slamming his head against the floor with a force that would have brained a human man.

Words were spoken, fast, loud and furious, that went over my dazed head. Jasper snarled at him, baring his teeth, but Edward's steady hands kept him in place.

One last epithet, a few scratches, and he stood up, leaving Jasper sprawled over the floor. He grabbed me, tugging me behind him down an unfamiliar corridor, through a mahogany door. The room was bare, save for a bed. I didn't have time to look around for anything else, because he had pressed me down to the mattress, and the pain was all I knew.

Edward had the power to tackle Jasper, his leader and commander, without being torn apart and burned on the spot. He had the power to resist his position of strength and supremacy. If Jasper was the King of this small band of vampires, Edward was the Crown Prince, and both of them knew it.

I knew that my presence in the coven was unsettling. Edward had never taken a girl for himself before, at least as far back as Bree or any of the current claims could remember. It was an unprecedented event – and, apparently, it worried Jasper.

My death would mean more than the loss of Edward's claim.

It would be an all-out struggle for power.

Bree snapped her fingers in front of my eyes.

"Are you alright in there? Relax, there's no venom. Apparently, he's a rather clean eater when he wants to be."

She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"I've bandaged the wound. Try not to prod at it, okay?"

I gave her a short nod, and satisfied, she rocked back on her heels to wrap up the mess of bandages spread across her lap. The other girls had scattered around the small area of quilted floor, speaking in low tones. Occasionally, someone laughed, but the sound was never fully relaxed.

I wasn't the only one who didn't want to let down their guard.

The door abruptly flew open. My entire nervous system suffered a jolt, my head swiveling toward the loud noise in order to find out who had disturbed the peaceful moment. Even Bree seemed caught off-guard, her face flooding with angry red when she realized who the intruder was.

"Tori, don't do that," she scolded, touching my knee slightly as she rose to her feet. "You scared us."

I instantly stiffened at the mention of the other girl. Victoria hadn't spoken to me directly since the first day when Edward singled her out to lead me to the humans' quarters. I still didn't know much about her, since she seemed to prefer spending her hours with her vampire, James, almost with a sort of sadistic pleasure in being constantly at his beck and call.

Regardless, there was something about her that unnerved me – maybe her constant grin that reminded me of the cat who'd eaten the canary, or the wicked look in her eyes.

Something that spoke of trouble.

When I saw her appearance, though, any thoughts of impending drama from Victoria were instantly stopped. She looked as though she'd been chewed up, and then spit out. Her clothes were torn, one sleeve completely ripped off of her dress, exposing her bruised shoulder. Her face was bloody, scraped, one eye nearly swollen.

Alarm coursed through me. I looked to Bree, but to my astonishment, she didn't even seem to blink. Instead, she only sighed as she reached for the kit.

"What a bunch of pussies," Victoria slurred, smirking at all of us as she sauntered to the center of the quilt and plopped down in the very middle, instantly claiming the position of attention. She stretched out her legs, sighing as she massaged the tense flesh. "Wow, he was really in a mood today."

Emily, one of the older girls, dark-haired with Indian features that made my heart clench up in memory of my family, smirked at her boldly.

"James give it to you a little too hard, V?"

Even though she wasn't facing me, I could see Bree's posture stiffen. Some of the younger girls flushed, turning their faces away. A few rolled their eyes and mumbled something under their breaths that I was sure wasn't complimentary to Victoria or Emily.

I was still caught on Emily's words, and the innuendo lacing them that I would not – could not – imagine.

Victoria scoffed almost playfully, reaching out to shove the other young woman on her shoulder.

"Oh, c'mon, Em, we all know you're just jealous because Peter can't get it up enough to scratch that itch."

They both laughed, boisterous, loud and utterly crude. I just stared at them, completely frozen in disbelief. When it came to – well, sex, I wasn't a complete innocent. True, I hadn't had occasion to find anyone I'd like to share that type of experience yet, though heaven knew that Jacob was all too eager to fill the position – but living in such close quarters with two lovers like Leah and Sam was almost enough to make me wish I wasn't able to hear as well as speak.

The idea of copulation, with a dead, frozen creature of stone flesh and a fierce blood lust that surely overpowered any carnal desires, made me feel nauseous.

Victoria seemed to register the look on my face. Her lips contorted into an expression of disgust.

"What's wrong, _Bella_?" She sneered. "The little virgin's getting all hot and bothered? I'm sure you wish that Edward had enough control to give it to you the way you want it."

I recoiled from her, from the disgusting words she spewed at me. Bree had turned back toward the circle. Her face was a mask of silent fury.

"Victoria," she demanded, her voice cold and hard. "Stop."

She was ignored.

"You didn't really think that the vamps just kept us here for blood?" Victoria scoffed as she glowered at me. "Oh wait, of course you did. Please. If that was all they wanted, they could make surface trips as often as they needed, without the trouble of having to provide for live captives. But vampires want more than just a fresh meal. When they feed, they have the urge to _fuck_."

Her eyes gleamed. Bree sat back on her heels, her face disgusted.

"It's mere convenience to have your blood and your pussy all in one package," she continued on more cheerfully. "And, lucky us, we get to have lovers with hundreds of years of experience – and who are willing to give it all they have on occasion."

She rubbed over one of her fresh bruises, winced and then giggled.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. _She actually liked it_ – the bruising, the rough scrapes and tears that had to arise from soft human flesh being subjugated to unbarred vampire strength.

Victoria took my shocked silence as a form of jealousy. She tossed her head smugly.

"Too bad Edward can't keep away from the wine long enough to taste the flesh," she cooed. "I wouldn't mind it if he pounced on me and took a bite out of…"

"Victoria!" Bree's voice rang out, clear, sharp and decisive. "That's enough!"

Victoria wouldn't be interrupted, though, and at the sound of Bree's voice, she turned on her latest victim.

"Oh, don't act like such a prude, Miss Bree," she sneered. "We all know about the wild nights you have with your Ri -"

Bree tackled her. For a moment, I was so shocked at the fact that my collected, quiet friend was rubbing Victoria's face into the hard stone and yanking at her hair, that I couldn't move. The other girls weren't so slow to action. They tugged at the two tussling girls, noise filling the air: "Bree, calm down, just let go!" "God, Victoria doesn't know when to stop."

They were finally separated. I moved forward to Bree, proudly nursing a black eye with a look of fierce triumph in her eyes that was almost vampiric. Victoria sat in another corner, surrounded by a few girls who tried to pat at the new scrapes on her cheeks, attempting to lunge towards Bree.

"You little slut!" She spat. "You act so high-and-mighty, but believe me, Bree, we all know better. At the end of the night, you're no better than me."

Bree didn't answer. She didn't even look at her. I tried to examine her black eye, but she gently pushed me away.

"I know what I am, Victoria," she said finally. "And I know what you are. Whether you like it or not, we're two different things entirely. There's nothing similar between us – _nothing_."

Victoria's eyes narrowed. I was sure that the fight would start up again – and this time, none of us would be able to prevent injury – but then, we all heard it.

The deliberate, sardonic sound of applause, coming from the doorway.

"Bravo, Brianna," he drawled, and the familiar tone of his voice sent the quivers of anticipation and fear and disgust trickling into my churning stomach. "I didn't know you had it in you."

Like cold water on a fire, the tense situation was sufficiently doused. Victoria scrambled to the side – but not before eyeing Edward coquettishly from underneath her eyelashes. The others all quickly dissipated to their beds, the quilt abandoned, turning their attention to each other, completely silent, all eyes straining to stay away from the bloodsucker who had intruded our sanctuary.

I sat there, tense, my fists balled up in my lap, trying not to be aware of his approach – soft, nearly unnoticeable as he padded toward me, so close that I could feel his cool breath against the nape of my neck.

I bit firmly on my lip, my heart beat pounding through my ears, almost sounding like a mantra.

_Stay calm. Breathe in. Breathe out._

He was silent for a moment. I didn't dare look up to see what was happening.

"If you don't mind," he said, soft and deadly, "I'd like a moment alone with Bella."

There was a brief pause, a lull in the air as the words sank in slowly and menacingly. And then, there was a sudden rush of feet as the door opened, and slammed shut. I heard a slower pair of footsteps – Bree's, perhaps – walk past him, pausing briefly as though she was gazing back at me.

Then the door shut.

We were left in the cold, impenetrable silence. Edward made no move toward me. He just stood there, behind me, the hairs rising on the nape of my neck as his stare burned into my skin. It unnerved me, made my skin feel hot and itchy and my mind inwardly beg, _Please just get it over with. Please just get it over with. Please. _

I couldn't help but think over Victoria's lewd comments about the true reason the vampires claimed girls. I remembered the way Edward had crawled on top of me on that first night, how he had pinned me down and feathered kisses against my skin before he made that first cut.

_Had he wanted me?_

_Had he wanted more than a taste of my blood?_

_Was that why he was here now?_

Fear formed a knot in my gut.

"It appears you're getting along well with the other girls," his smooth voice struck me, and I jumped. Even from this position, I could tell he was smiling at my unease.

I said nothing.

"Bree in particular seems extremely protective," he chuckled, presumably at the idea of Bree's weak human body attempting to shield me from his advances. "When she left out of the room just now, the look she gave me… However, judging by the topic you girls were…discussing, when I entered, I'm not surprised."

My heart plummeted.

_No._

_No._

_No._

I couldn't turn around. I was stuck to the very spot I knelt in, unable to judge his expression – scared to see what was written on his face.

_Was he here for that tonight?_

_Was this a hint?_

_Did he plan to force me?_

_No._

_No._

_No._

"If that Victoria girl knew exactly how much control I have in my little finger," he spoke, his voice still full of that same lewd amusement, "I believe she would stop her joyful crowing over her precious James. The idiot probably can't even figure out where to put it."

I was silent. He laughed quietly. The sound grated through my head.

"You're so tense. Relax, little girl. I'm not here to force myself on you. I've never compromised a woman that way, and I don't plan on doing it now. If you ever want me to take you –" He paused, letting the words rest heavily in the empty room. A prickle of sensation – a new feeling – something I couldn't identify, settled in my lower abdomen at the heavy, suggestive tone dripping from his words.

I shifted uncomfortably.

"- It will be by your choice," he finished meaningfully. "And believe me, I will make sure you don't regret it."

_Never._

_Never by my choice._

The words rested in my twitching fingers. I tightened my fists, glaring down at the white knuckles.

_Control._

_Use your control._

As though he could hear my thoughts, his voice changed, back to a business-like, brusque tone.

"I will be leaving the coven for a few days," he announced, voice slightly raised. There was no one else but me in the room, so I was not sure why he was attempting to project so loudly. "During this time, I would prefer you to stay at Bree's side at all costs."

He paused.

"There are some – complications, about your status as my claim," he said, his voice abruptly harsh. "If anyone dares to touch you – or imply anything about you, in any way – I want to hear about it. I do not give a damn about your life, Bella. Keep that in mind. But for as long as you live, you are mine, and no one else's."

I bit my lip, and said nothing.

What more could I do?

"I'm glad that's clear."

And then, I felt his hand, heavy on my shoulder, turning me around. I knew the look that would be in his eyes even before I raised my gaze to his – the dark orbs were alit with mischief, wicked teasing, and hunger.

That blatant hunger that ran up my nerves like electricity, telling me to flee while I could, even though my mind registered the fact that there was no escape.

"And now that's out of the way," he leered, already tugging away the cloth of my dress to reveal my pale shoulder, "how about one for the road?"

He did not wait for my response.

His lips pressed down on the exposed vein, and I closed my eyes, fortifying myself for what was coming.


	15. EPOV Blank Future

**I do not own Twilight. I'd like to say that I own Hadesward, but the truth of the matter is that he doesn't belong to anyone.**

**The much-deserved round of kisses and hugs to YellowGlue, my Bonnie with the 'grey highlighter of love'; Nitareality, who pre-reads the nonsense that overflows from the endless plot bunny factory in my mind, and is always there when I need a good dose of...well, Nita; and TwiCharmed, because without her always on my case about this story, I might forget when I have a complete update waiting to be posted.**

**Oops.**

**REMINDER: Keep an eye out for the BTSC readalong, hosted by the lovely YellowGlue, on November 12. For deets, check out The Fic Bridge.**

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"I can't see your future."

Alice stood in the doorway, her little fists clenched at her sides, hair bristling as though she were a mad dog facing a formidable opponent. Edward eyed her coolly, seeing the signs of tension in her eyes, and the way that her entire body seemed to jitter, as though she were recovering from a high. She was nervous; completely, utterly undone with the sudden onslaught of the mental darkness that shrouded her brain.

If there was one thing that Alice hated, it was uncertainty. Her life had been nearly taken as a human. She'd been locked in a forbidding cell of the Biloxi mental asylum to waste away. Sans sight. Sans hearing. Sans any knowledge of the world around her except for the fact that she was dying, slowly and painfully, thirsty for a Fountain of Youth that she could not even express.

He had recreated her, brought back the thin cheekbones and starving, wide eyes. He had brought her first meal to her feet, and as she feasted on the Devil's manna, the first inklings of the creature she would become – the all-knowing, all-seeing Goddess that no one would challenge – overcame her brain.

She was born, Alice the Seer.

Edward rather enjoyed seeing her in this sort of state. She was utterly perplexed, and increasingly, hysterically impatient as he silently turned away. He reached for the papers that he had left carelessly across his desk; the list of names in Jasper's careful, overbearing scrawl. They were the names of those who had dared to sin against their ruler, those who had unwittingly signed their own death warrant.

There would be blood on Edward's hands tonight.

But not the blood he wanted.

He had taken from her again tonight, had tasted the now-familiar, but never unexciting, thrill of her blood coursing through his dry veins. He'd felt the way her body writhed beneath his when she could no longer fight the searing flames of the venom. It was in those few moments that she gave way; her spirit was bent to his will, her eyes gazing up into his subdued and pleading for mercy – acknowledging that she was under his control.

It was a heady, powerful thing to experience.

Bella gave him what none of his other victims ever had: a challenge. She would thrash about under the pain of his ministrations, beg for release with her eyes, push him away even as her fingers seemed to gather him closer – a constant struggle, submissive or independent.

They all had.

And in the end, they had yielded to him – the prey realizing the might of the predator, releasing their life quietly, slipping away without a final struggle.

She might bend.

But she wouldn't break.

Not yet. But she would.

In the end, Edward always got what he wanted.

"I haven't decided on a course to take tonight," he said, his voice cool, dismissive. Alice staggered into the room, eyes bleary, face completely drained of color. He turned away to hide his smile as she nearly tripped over her own feet. It reminded him of Bella, that first night in that dank, crumbling apartment building. He'd seen those wide brown eyes gazing at him from behind the bars, like a doe carefully eyeing the hunter – under the impression of false security.

He'd won in the end.

He always did.

The state that his sister was in; the way she blinked her eyes rapidly to keep her vision focused, how she pressed her hand against her forehead and gave a little painful moan, was only another reason for him to feel a surge of powerful triumph.

His nonchalant response, however, seemed to rile up a bit of the old spark in Alice.

"You're hiding something," she accused, voice slurring over the letters as she stumbled forward to poke her finger into his chest. "There's something that bothers me about you, Edward. You've changed…something in your eyes…"

She seemed to lose her train of thought. Her eyes became distant, as though she was seeking one of her visions: a moment of divine intervention to save her from her own fumbling attempts to exist. Edward humored her by standing still, silently watching with a smirk quirking his lips as her brow furrowed; apparently confused as to what she had been considering in the first place.

"That girl!" She exclaimed suddenly, eyes widening, a flash of recognition brightening her face, before her lips curled back into an angered snarl. "The…the little blood whore. There's an aura about her that I don't like. She's defiant…she doesn't cower, not like the other girls. And the way my Jasper looks at her sometimes…she draws him in, the same way she bewitches you!"

Edward's eyes narrowed, and he barely bit back the snarl rumbling in his chest. He had seen the way that Jasper's gaze lingered on Bella on the occasions that she was forced to pass by the coven leader. She had cowered against the wall, head bent, toying with her hair in an attempt to shield herself from detection. It was impossible, of course, with such a reputation as 'Edward's girl', and the overpowering scent of her blood. Jasper had watched her, his eyes caressing the white skin of her neck, attempting to gaze through the layers of cotton to her bare legs.

Perhaps he imagined touching them, being able to grasp her pliant body, pull her down to his bed – feast on her body as well as her blood.

The very idea of his Bella being coveted, the mere suggestion of her being removed from his ownership, was enough to move Edward to fury.

Alice knew the way that her words would nettle him. Even behind the glazed delirium, he could see the sly cunning of the fox circling in for the kill. He forced the irritation down, swallowed it and kept the stone-cold mask forward, hiding his emotions. He had learned early on in this second, eternal life, that feelings were the worst weapon that could be used against a person. Love, anger, sorrow, lust – twisted and transformed into a deadly dagger, a two-ended sword that eventually claimed both manipulator, and empath.

"Perhaps Jasper isn't satisfied with what he already has," Edward said lightly, watching as the words sank into their target. Her jaw clenched and her hands pushed against his chest, propelling herself backwards, away from him. Alice's relationship with Jasper was always thin ice to tread upon. She was domineering, insistent, overly jealous of his movements. She clung on his every action and word with the devotion of Lady Macbeth to the death of her king.

Jasper played along with her games, kept her close for the sake of the visions that revealed secrets and led the way to victory against the odds. She was an easy woman to lure into bed, and, Jasper always emerged from their bedchambers with a satisfied look on his face.

Edward wrinkled his nose at the thought.

At the end of the day though, Alice's attractions for Jasper depended on her usefulness to him. If she ever gave a sign of wearing off – a mental sterility, a failed mission that ended in humiliation and loss on the part of her mate – it would be her end.

Jasper never hid it.

Edward always knew it.

And he was sure as Hell that, no matter how Alice clung to her lover; cooed over his wounds and blew him airy, flirtatious kisses, she knew as well that her fate hung on her own mental acumen.

Bella was the wrench that could dull her carefully oiled machine.

She could be the key to Alice's end.

It was an intriguing idea: killing two birds with one stone. It was an errant thought that momentarily gave Edward pause, even as his sister's eyes scorched into his face.

_Blood is thicker than water._

Yet, as she glared at him; her fingers extended like claws (and she would do it too, would claw his face with her nails if she could, gouge out his eyes like a fierce jungle cat, to Hell with filial ties and shared genetics) Edward could see it. He could see Alice crumpled on the floor, Jasper above her like a haloed Angel of Mercy, ready to deal her the final blow that would end her pathetic existence.

There, behind his rival, Edward would crouch, wait until his attention was appropriately distracted, the head bent over his prey – and then, he would strike.

"She's nothing, Edward," Alice spat, her eyes furious, her teeth bared and glistening with venom. "I could rend her body like a twig between my fingers, and what would her blood be to you then? You would lap it up from the floor like a dog, and perhaps even gnaw at her bones to try and get every last drop of marrow. Maybe you would feel something over her death – loss, maybe, or a bit of disappointment that you didn't get to draw it out longer – but then you'd just move on to the next one, just like any other man."

"Spoken like a woman of experience," Edward smiled, his lips contorted into a hideous grin. Her defenses were crumbling, her arguments giving way to blinded frustration and fury. It wouldn't be too long now before she gave up and stormed out of the room, and found an innocent human by-passer, or perhaps another of her comrades, to vent her irritation on.

But not yet.

There was one more seed he had to plant in the mind seething with doubt and betrayal; one more idea that needed to spread out its roots.

"Bella is more than her blood," he said calmly, eyes steady, holding hers. "She is more than you, or your precious Jasper, could ever dream of controlling. And," he paused before he dropped the bomb, "I've contacted Carlisle in the interest of changing her."

Alice reeled back, recoiling physically from his words. For a moment, she was completely speechless. And then; like a bullet from a gun, she flew, pummeling him with her fists, scratching and screaming like a tabby cat.

He effortlessly shook her, straddled her as she struggled on the floor, eyes wide, hissing unintelligibly. Her curses came in different languages, in tongues that even he could not understand.

"Bastard," she shrieked, her entire frame trembling as he held her back, utterly amused by her attempts to free herself. He was older, stronger, and Bella's blood shot through his body like a drug – bringing him higher, giving him energy that he wouldn't have experienced otherwise. "Fucking worthless, ungrateful, backstabbing…"

Edward tsked playfully.

"Do you kiss your mouth with that mouth, Alice?"

He chucked her chin, but his fingernail dug in slightly against the hard flesh. She shut up instantly, understanding the danger that she was in. Of course no one would come to her aid, not even after hearing the devilish shrieks that she had emitted moments ago. Edward was the prince of the coven, and in some eyes, held on a higher pedestal than Jasper himself.

If he found it prudent to end his sister's life, no one would challenge the action.

Not even Jasper.

Edward let his fingers trail over Alice's throat, watching her eyes flit down to watch his movements, then up to his eyes. She was silent, but her eyes were wary, almost fearful now.

_Good._

"Now, little sister, listen to me carefully, and listen well," he said softly, and pressed down slightly against where her pulse used to flutter. She gave a little squeal, and then bit her lip tightly, trembling. "If I hear, that in my absence, you, or your fucking boytoy, even breathed near Bella – heads will roll. Carlisle is well-aware of the situation, and he will have no qualms about getting involved."

Alice squeezed her eyes shut tightly, emitting a low whimper. Edward recognized certain pictures, brief, gory snippets from their past flashing behind her closed lids.

_Her own fears, so easily used against her._

Revenge was sweet.

Edward moved off her, and she stood, still quavering. She pressed her hand to her mouth as she gaped at him, venom tears glazing her eyes. She had been sufficiently broken, and Edward knew that she would not cross his demands. For once, the imperious queen had been dethroned, brought beneath the feet of one that she used to abuse.

Without another word, she whirled for the door, threw it open, nearly collided with someone on the other side before she vaulted down the corridor, flying for some destination Edward could not pick out of the convoluted, horrified mass of thoughts in her mind. He threw back his head and laughed, as though if he didn't the very intensity of the moment would settle in him and rip him apart in the need to break free.

_Foolish girl._

"What's up with that?"

Tanya's voice was sulky, defiant as she strut into the room, and leaned against the wall in an attempt to look untouched by his previous rejection. Her thoughts, however, told him otherwise.

It didn't matter, regardless.

She hadn't been as good in bed as the other men had claimed – and Edward hated it when he wasn't the only one boasting about a certain female's prowess beneath the sheets.

Edward studied her mussed clothes, the recognizable scent coming from her neck, her skin, from between her thighs. Apparently, Alice wasn't keeping a tight enough leash on her precious paramour.

"I don't have to remind you that we're running behind schedule," he snapped in response, closing himself off, presenting the Edward that the coven knew and feared – the cold-eyed killer, the heartless assassin with no qualms, and no regrets.

She bristled.

"So why are we still standing here?" She countered, and before he could answer, she was stomping back out into the corridor. Tossing her head, she was apparently miffed at the fact that another man's scent on her body couldn't rouse him to jealousy.

He followed after her, but paused for a moment, attempting to find the sound that, strangely enough, his ears seemed to crave – scanning through rooms, past stone walls and down corridors, until…

_Thump._

_Thump._

_Thump._

Yes. There.

He closed his eyes, tilted his head, and actually smiled as he followed Tanya into the night.

_Take care of your heart, Bella. It won't be yours for much longer._


	16. BPOV The Feast, Pt 1

***Cheers* Yes, this is it - the secret chapter specially unveiled for the BTSC #readalong. If you didn't get to attend, don't worry. You can read it right now. **

**Much love to the usual suspects: YellowGlue, the best bestie a girl could have, armed with the gray highlighter of love; Nitareality and her endless flow of love and supports - amazing pre-reader that I don't deserve; TwiCharmed, who kicks my ass into gear and reminds me to update when I don't even remember; and izzzyy, the best big sister a girl could have. **

**I love you all so much.**

**And I love you readers, even if I'm shit at review replies.**

**(You can find the playlists for the readalong on my YouTube. PM me if you can't find them.)**

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**BPOV**

Edward was gone.

I woke up in the morning with an oddly unsettling feeling of loss. For a few minutes, I lay curled within myself, knees pulled to my chest like an unformed fetus within its mother's womb, listening to the other girls scuffle their feet and converse in low murmurs. It was as if they had to force themselves to fully awaken in preparation for the day.

In reality, I wasn't sure if anyone was truly able to sleep in this hellhole, surrounded by predators beyond human comprehension. At any moment they could open their eyes and finding themselves pinned to their bed, the sheets that tangled about their legs their own shroud.

Edward had taken from me again – "one for the road," he had mocked me, his eyes smoldering as he lowered his lips to press against my jugular. It frightened me, how easily my blood seeped out of the small cut in my skin, as though the mere touch of his canine enticed my life force to the surface – as though, like my body, even my innards could not help but yield to him as my conqueror.

As though I was nothing more than a spectator, I could not control how my body moved under Edward's control. His touch made me recoil even as it aroused. Squirming, gut-clenching – much in the way a child would feel upon moving a rock and discovering a nest of worms squelched against each other beneath its hard surface.

Disgusted, but intrigued and curious, and, against my better judgment, I longed to know more.

I wanted to understand Edward.

I wanted to know why he'd chosen me.

_Curiosity killed the cat._

My eyes flicked open as a hand came to rest on my shoulder. Bree stood there, her face drawn with fatigue as she finished tying back her long, curly hair. She hadn't spoken to me as much since the debacle with Lauren. The only fortunate outcome from that catfight was the fact that neither her, nor Vicky, bothered me anymore – well, verbally, at least.

After Edward's last visit, when exhausted and fragile and out of my mind, I curled to his side, and he hadn't left me, not once, during the night, they had not been able to curb their suspicious glances and knowing smirks.

He didn't hold me, just laid there and felt me against his side, and though I couldn't see his face, I suspected that a smirk contorted his face – as though he'd won.

I hated it. I hated the fact that they could so easily assume that I was a whore, just like them – that my spirit could so easily be broken.

I was used to being underestimated. My brothers (the mere thought sent a pang to my heart; _my brothers…what had happened to them?)_ had coddled me often as much as they forced me to face a world I never would have wanted to experience; I was delicate, poorly formed, silk over a glass frame, so easy to shatter – so easy to break in two and throw away, and become easily forgotten.

And yet, I had proven them wrong.

I had survived this far. Every night, I endured the bite of the hunter, and though the venom stung my veins in warning – a promise of what might come, what could become if Edward did not continue with his same deliberate carefulness – in the morning I rose, joints sore, skin bruised.

_Still mortal._

_Still human._

_Still me._

"There will be a feast tonight," Bree said quietly. There were circles under her eyes, deep purple rings that coupled with her pale skin, bony cheekbones, and the way that she seemed to stagger under the weight of her own words – made her appear dead.

She almost appeared like a vampire.

The very thought made me shudder, but Bree did not seem to notice. Her eyes were distant, as though she had something entirely different on her mind.

I remembered her previous words. I tugged at her sleeve, willing her attention back to me.

_A feast?_

Her face seemed to pale even further, but she shook her head.

"I can't explain it to you right now. You'll just have to see for yourself. I – I just wish that –"

She pushed a hand through her wild hair, unraveling the strands she'd tugged back against her skull. She looked older, tired and worn, as though the troubles of this world rested heavily on her shoulders – more so than usual.

"This world is not the world that you believe you know, Bella," she said quietly. "It is more dangerous – more corrupt – than anything you could have imagined. There are lies, and trickery, and every unraveled thread leads to another web of deception and lusts. Once you get tangled up in it, it's hard to get out. Tonight, I just hope you remember who your allies are. Appearances can be deceiving. Just keep that in mind."

I stared up at her, into her wide, pleading eyes. It was as though she was trying to tell me something important – something that she could not say out loud, not yet.

One of the younger girls gasped.

"Bree!" She wailed. "Zachary got blood on my new shirt!"

Bree sighed heavily and rolled her eyes, the spell broken.

"Greedy bloodsuckers," she mumbled under her breath, before she started in the other direction, calling out, "Give it here and let me see what I can do!"

I let my legs dangle off the side of the cot and watched. It was as though that mysterious word, this feast that Bree refused to explain, had set all of the human girls into a frenzy. Dresses were examined, hair yanked and tugged into elaborate hairstyles that seemed odd next to threadbare cotton and skinny, anemic limbs. Bite marks, bruises, signs of passion all disguised under layers of powder and long sleeves and carefully arranged positions.

It was as though the small colony of mortals was about to go under some sort of examination.

_And Edward wasn't here._

Horrified, I quickly recoiled from the thought. What did it matter whether or not he was here? The man had stolen me away from the only protectors I had, the people that I loved. He was the creature who suckled at my neck and brought me to death's door and revived me and etched his mark on my skin.

Edward had ruined my life.

He was my captor, and he would never let me go – not as long as I lived.

I should have been grateful for the opportunity to be free from his heavy presence.

The unsettling feeling formed a knot in my stomach. I did not prod at it further. For the first time in my entire life, I was terrified of my own emotions, of what I would discover at the heart of my confused feelings with further introspection.

I stood up, feeling the rush of blood tingling in my toes as I stepped over the hard stone floor, accepting my shift from exhausted Bree and yanking my gown over my head to undress.

It was odd; in another world, another time, I would have blushed had I seen bare skin, rustling blankets that revealed an unclad body beneath. Now, it was nothing. Now, I could tug on my dress without fearing the eyes around me. Modesty didn't matter.

Everyone had only one thing on their mind: survival.

I was grateful for the fact that almost as soon as the cotton shift was sinking down around my legs, Bree had me and one of the younger girls scrambling for the kitchen to take care of the breakfast rations. There was an uneasy air over the nest, a sort of tense anticipation that pressed a cold, unyielding finger to the mouths of those who would usually fill the stone halls with laughter, screams, uncontrollable bursts of rage.

Even the undead, untouched by the emotions that surged through their human captives like blood, seemed tense, on edge and ready to strike.

I had a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach; a sort of knowing, that somehow, this expectation did not bode well for me. But, I welcomed it with open arms, simply because it gave me something to think about other than the unexpected unease I felt at knowing that a familiar pair of smoldering red eyes would not be watching my movements tonight.

_Cold fingers tracing down my spine._

_His lips pressing against my collarbone._

_Unnerving._

_Compelling._

_Possessing._

In Edward's absence, I was my own person. I did not have to worry about the press of his teeth slowly clamping around my neck, his body pinning me down, squeezing the breath out of my lungs, suffocating me, smothering me, squeezing the very spirit out of me with every drop of blood that fell on his icy tongue. I hated him. I hated the way that he made me feel.

I hated the fact that it felt odd that he wasn't here watching me.

I ate very little; each bite felt like a rock as I tried to force it down. Bree would have usually noticed and immediately started hovering, perhaps even attempted to force-feed me herself. The thought brought back vague snippets of a life-before-this-life. Rapid images reeled backwards like a video on rewind: a warm hand against my forehead, rain splattering against windows set in sun-tinted walls, a brush yanking through my curls and a sweet croon lulling me to sleep. They were dreams of a mother that barely existed, a woman who had inflicted harm even as she loved.

If it weren't for my mother, I would not be here.

I would not be at the hands of a vampire.

Even though Edward was not here, I was surrounded by the cold creatures that I despised. There were orders not to touch me, blatant threats and harsh snarls accompanied by the marks on my neck and the tight fingers around my wrist. I could still feel the eyes on me, though I pressed myself to the wall, let my hair dangle over my neck, my cheek, in an attempt to be unnoticed.

Jasper was the boldest. His eyes bore holes through my clothes, unpleasant caresses over the cloth, what could be seen of my arms and feet – as though he can see right through the thin concealment down to my bare skin. When Edward was here to witness these audacious appraisals, he would jealously tug me behind him, roaring out as though he were a wild beast claiming his mate from an encroaching male.

_Perhaps that is how this possession – this acceptable rape, this preferred slavery – is in their eyes._

My stomach lurched at the thought.

I was fortunate that Edward had not completely consummated his possession. It was considered his right, an indulgence that would be later jested about, jeering at the blood on his lips and the satisfied look on his eyes while the ravished victim lay beneath a white shroud. It would have been the final nail in the coffin of my degradation.

Only a few of the girls actually toss back their hair, show off the marks of passion proudly. Each of the blotches were purple against her otherwise unmarred skin. They took pride in pleasing their so-called lovers, an emotion that made my stomach roil even as it crawled beneath my skin.

I couldn't imagine giving myself to one of these creatures, especially Edward. They were inhumane beasts that could not even call themselves men anymore. I could not bear to even think of allowing foreign hands to touch and probe my body in places that even my own fingers did not stray. To even allow them to compromise me would be allowing them to seduce me to a fate that, in my eyes, is worse than death.

I may have been considered no better than a whore for the task I carried out in the pack. I allowed the monsters to fondle me and take of my blood. I lured them into the net and tightened the ropes before they realized that the tables had been turned.

But it was just for the good of my family – nothing more, and I still maintained my pride.

_I will never sink as low as Lauren or Victoria to please a man, much less a vampire._

When I finally made my way back to the humans' chambers, the entire room was in a state of chaos. Somehow, a makeup kit had appeared from beneath the depths of some girl's surviving belongings. Mascara was passed around, eyes traced, lips painted and curled experimentally.

I stood there for a moment in the doorway, stunned as familiar faces were transformed into strangers I had never seen before. Confident, snickering, boisterous laughter lifted up from a group of normally reserved older girls as one of them holds up a particularly risqué pair of underwear.

Something was niggling at the back of my mind: a taunt from Victoria, reminding me that vampires could and would venture out from the nest in order to feed – that human girls were not merely kept for sustenance as much as entertainment.

My stomach turned over at the idea of what else would more than likely happen tonight.

Bree spotted me then, her own face a delicate pink from the unnatural blush touching up her cheeks.

"Bella! Where have you been?" She scolded, but before I could answer, her nails were digging into my arms, her gaze urgent. It reminded me of the moments earlier in the morning, before duty called, the way her voice had sounded as she looked into my eyes, pleading – begging me to understand.

_Appearances can be deceiving._

"Bella," she repeated, and then, her eyes looked down, as though she could not hold my gaze. "Bella…I think it'd be best – for all involved – if you stayed here in the room tonight."

I just stared at her, shocked.

_Why?_

She still didn't look at me. She focused her eyes on my curled fingers, hanging in the air – waiting for her to speak so I could respond.

"It's not time for you yet," she said, still in that soft, vulnerable voice. "What happens tonight…Edward isn't here. There won't be anyone to protect you. There won't be a reason for you to be able to understand."

I recoiled from her words, not as much as the implication that there was a hidden secret that even I am not privy to within the coven, something that I was not strong enough to understand, but more from the idea that Edward's presence is needed to protect me.

Edward; the man who took of my blood like a leech, the man who had kidnapped me from those I loved, the man who could, at any time, by his own whims, take my neck between his hands and snap it as easily as a child with a dry stick.

_The only protection I need from Edward is from __**himself**__._

"Come on, Bree, don't be a party pooper."

Victoria's soft purr made both of us stiffen, even as an unfamiliar fragrance – heady and cloying – drifted over my nose and her hand rested heavily on my shoulder.

"If the kid thinks she can handle the Feast, why not let her come? It might make things a little more…interesting."

Her nails scraped lightly over my shoulder. I fought the urge to gag.

Bree's eyes narrowed. The relationship – or lack thereof – between the two had been touchy since the fist-fight a few days previously. Tongues as well as tempers had loosened, and Victoria almost revealed the secret that Bree guarded just as preciously as the girls in her care: the vampire who has Claimed her.

_Is that why she doesn't want me to see this Feast tonight? Because she thinks I'll arouse some passion in her mystery man?_

I straightened out my shoulders, raised my head and looked Bree squarely in the eye.

No matter how the idea of flying blind frightened me, no matter that my captor was not there to assure my temporary safety from his fellow undead, I knew that whatever Bree was hiding from me was important enough to guard.

Knowledge that might help me escape this Hell on Earth.

_I want to see._

Her eyes widened. For a moment, she almost looked…afraid.

"Bella…"

I turned away from her, to Victoria. Her tinted lips curled upwards, almost pitying – as though I'd taken the first step into a trap she almost hoped I would steer clear of. She didn't understand my signs, but I guessed she could read the look in my eyes. She took me by the arm, smiling down on me with a triumphant look on her face.

"Come on, sugar queen. Let's get you dolled up."

Bree watched us as we left, her face vulnerable, almost broken. For a moment, I felt the twinge of betrayal, like I should retrace my steps. Then I remembered the cold way she'd closed off from me that day in the kitchen, the hidden burden of words unsaid, the feeling of not being able to belong.

_For once in my life, I want to be prepared._

_I want to know what happens next, even if I am not supposed to just yet._

I looped my arm through Victoria's and let her lead me to the slaughterhouse.


	17. BPOV The Feast, Pt 2

**Two Mutella chapters in a row? Don't worry, Hadesward is going to be let loose against in the next chapter. And besides, this little section here is just one firecracker leading up to the eventual big finale. **

**Love, love, love for YellowGlue, my Bonnie bestie and wonderful mistress of words. Izzzyysprinkles, my big sister who listens to my incessant whining on a daily basis and kicks my ass into shape. Stephk0525, who takes turns with me cracking the whip when it's needed the most. Nitareality, that beautiful cookie baker - here's hoping she has more time after the holidays to spend it with the people here who love her. You guys make the world turn round; for me at least.**

**I do not own Twilight. I wish I did, because the Eclipse movie would have had a lot more Darkward scenes.**

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**BPOV**

_Ashes to ashes and dust to dust._

I regretted my rash decision as soon as Victoria planted me on one of the unoccupied beds. She anointed my eyes with glossy liquid coal, hid my face away beneath layers of rice powder and cheap rouge. I stared into the mirror she forced between my fingers, at the stranger I had become: provocative, artificial. She made me look like the type of woman I would see blearily stumbling out of one of the empty apartments after my brothers had a particularly wild night on the town.

I looked into my unrecognizable face, and I saw Bree's stricken expression as I let her enemy drag me away. I saw Edward's gleaming eyes, the snarl as he snapped at Jasper's heels. I saw Tanya, leering at me distastefully, judging me for who I was – for being mortal, breakable.

_What have I done?_

_Why am I going ahead with this?_

A shove on my shoulder dislodged my train of thought. Victoria scowled at me, her glossy lips in an irritated pout.

"A thank you might be nice," she griped. "Wasting time on you, and my James is probably already out there with those worthless floozies."

Her cleavage moved against the black corset she had forced around her middle. She was bold, fiery with her hair tumbling over her naked shoulders and down to the tight jeans she'd squeezed herself into. Apparently, unlike the other girls, she didn't need frills and lace in order to catch the eye of a bloodsucker.

_Bloodsuckers._

_The Feast._

I pulled at Victoria's arm as she tried to slip away, a sudden feeling of awareness and panic closing off my throat. She shook me off, giving me a final, irritated backwards glance.

"Look, kid. Let's get one thing straight. Me helping you look human? That was mainly just to piss off Little Miss Sunshine. Don't expect that this means you can be dangling off my arm for the rest of the night."

She shook me off and stalked through the doorway, her form melting into the dim corridor. I was alone, staring toward the flickering lights at the end of the hall, arms rubbing at my skin through the gossamer-like threads that clung to my body like a sheath. I could hear the voices already – a distant, unintelligible rumble that sounded almost as though it was rising from the floor.

The knot in my stomach tightened.

_You are making a big mistake. Pride goeth before a fall, Bella. You aren't invincible – as much as you'd like to think you are._

_I am not immortal, but I have a mind of my own – a mind that not even Edward the soul reader is able to crack; a mind that can still stay one step ahead of sharp fangs and cold fists. _

_Hopefully, tonight, it will stay that way._

The room was different than when I'd first entered it; that great, empty chamber, filled with the elegant undead and the soft, yielding forms of the human girls, all kneeling at the feet of their masters. They looked to me with blank eyes as I was led to the altar, the latest sacrifice to quench the bloodsuckers' thirsts. Perhaps I had always been meant to wind up here, or someplace like it – alone, the thin shroud of my borrowed gown a useless armor against the piercing gazes around me, unable to hide behind my brothers, or Jake or…

_Edward._

I was his. It was a rule that hung heavy on my shoulders, and I could see it in their eyes. The few vampires who dared to look up and watch me pass tentatively, removing their lips from ready, willing flesh to eye me, were perhaps speculating the quality of the blood that flowed beneath the blue of my veins, peeping from beneath the revealing fabric.

But none of them approached.

None dared to proceed beyond that first, hungry stare.

Even in his absence, his presence haunted them. Memories of those smoldering red eyes, those cruel hands that could crush bone and the stony bodies of his own kind…

I shuddered, hands flying up to rub against my arms.

_Do not think of him._

_Do not think of what he can do._

_Tonight you need to find out what you can._

_Tonight you need to plan an escape._

I looked away from the spectators, at the room that surrounded me. Decorations hung from every cobweb, festooning the old crumbling stone and giving an eerily cheerful aura.

_The Nightmare Before Christmas._

_The Last Supper._

I remembered my brothers, their usual boyish need for black humor. Sam, his head tossed back in laughter at the story of Jack the Pumpkin King and his pitch-black world. I could never understand the way that they enjoyed gruesome comedy, death and destruction and morbidity glazed over with happy thoughts and childhood fairy tales.

For me, what I saw every day – the creatures that touched and licked and bit me as they pleased – was more than enough.

This was wrong.

The platters of food that moved through the crowd of mingling bodies, human and undead. Young girls who slept in beds of worn sheets and walked barefoot on the hard floor in sensual, suggestive gowns, forced smiles on their faces as they laughed and flirted and cavorted with the very monsters that had brought them to this fate. The music that wove through the air, hauntingly harmless. All of it was a supposed mask of innocence, of this being nothing more than a common gala, an excuse for young people to dance and enjoy themselves.

_Party themselves to death._

With a shudder, I suddenly understood why Bree had not wanted me here, why she had told me I needed Edward to protect me.

_Foolish, foolish Bella._

The Feast was an overture for death.

Someone was going to die tonight.

"Well, now, here's a lovely face I haven't seen before."

The voice was deep, surprisingly friendly compared to what I'd heard since I'd entered the gates of Hades. Still, though, it was wrong – it was a voice too polished. An underlying coldness that hinted at the true identity of the speaker made my hair rise on the nape of my neck.

_Vampire._

_Danger._

I half-turned, knowing my eyes shone with my fear, as well as my surprise that someone had actually dared to come forward and challenge Edward's hold over me. I almost expected it to be Jasper. Jasper with his starving leer and the way he glanced at the other vampire women's revealed legs. How they turned with their knowing glances and come-hither eyes, despite the presence of his scowling mate at his side.

Jasper, who held more sway over the coven than Edward ever could.

But this man was different. This man's hair was long, silky, a short ponytail lying against pale skin. His eyes were the flat scarlet pools of blood I expected to see, and a smirk curled his thin lips. He was surprisingly ordinary-looking compared to others of his kind I had seen, the perfect plastic models that strode through the world as though they owned it – and yet, he was still vampire. He was still my enemy.

His gaze roved over me freely, speculatively.

And I could not say a word to stop him.

He seemed to take my silence as encouragement. His lips widened.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"James," a voice hissed behind me. I half-turned to the voice that was all too familiar, and unwanted. Victoria stood there, her body trembling, seductive and poised in her ebony attire. Her fiery hair was like a halo of flames around her head, and as her eyes seared into me, I was no longer sure that she was made of flesh and bone and marrow like me.

James' eyes did not leave mine, not even as she padded to his side, yanked his face down to hers and practically ate his mouth – possessively, jealously. Hers were the movements of a woman insecure in her position, always fearful of that new pretty face ready to bring her down.

It was a status I did not want to challenge.

I did not want to stay here.

I wanted to escape.

_Too late now._

_You made your bed._

Victoria pulled away, her face contorting into a scowl as she realized his preoccupation.

"That's Bella," she said, as flippantly as she could manage. "Don't breathe near her, or Edward will have your head. He's fucking head over heels for the little insect."

It was the wrong thing to say. I could have told her that.

When a man is told that something is forbidden, it instantly increases his intrigue. For once, I wished I could speak, if only to quell the sudden heat in his eyes, the way he leaned forward even as I took a half-step back.

"Edward's? So this is the little morsel that has all the tongues wagging?"

He closed his eyes, and took a deep inhale.

"She does smell…_mouthwatering_."

Other minds were stirring. I was called to their attention by his voice: soft and wistful. I could feel the eyes boring into my skin. A girl gasped; one whispered a benediction in another language. The words were foreign, but I could understand the intended blessing of protection.

"She's a damn mute," Victoria spat at her erstwhile lover, her hand tugging at his shoulder. "And she's the property of the prince. Remember him? The man who could have your head on a spike if you even look at him the wrong way. Don't play with fire, James."

I expected him to backhand her. Insubordinate behavior from the 'lower' race was not tolerated here; even I knew that. Surprisingly though, he just laughed, as though what she'd said was nothing more than a private joke between friends.

"Come now, Victoria. I didn't expect you to be so skittish about Mr. High and Mighty. Believe me, it's nothing more than pomp and circumstance. Why, if I wanted to take her right now," his eyes burned with a passion that assured me he could do it in a second if he wished, "what would our great prince Edward be able to do? The damage would be done, the remains disposed of."

I took another step back.

No one would come to my aid. If anything, another vampire would only challenge James to get their taste of the spoils.

This was a mistake. Coming here was a mistake. And now, I was going to reap the consequences.

_Would God help a soul who willingly stepped into the realm of the damned?_

Fortunately for me though, Victoria's patience seemed to be at an end. She pulled her hand away from James as though burnt, her eyes accusing.

"Is this what you've planned for tonight? Me, all dolled up at your request, while you drool over another man's worthless toy?"

His attention was distracted. The other vampires eagerly leaned in to listen to the lover's feud, expecting blood and carnage, I was sure. I took the opportunity to melt away, in the fashion that my brothers had taught: blend in, be absolutely silent (_as if that were a challenge for me, the girl who never spoke, whose tongue's power was in her fingers_), fade away without another thought so that the predator's eyes cannot follow you.

I moved briskly through the waves of bright silk and coquettish advances, not paying mind to the chilly bodies I grazed, the girls who gave me anxious looks. A freckled blonde – _perhaps she slept in the bed next to me? Was she the one who bruised so easily? _– grabbed hold of my elbow.

"Bella? What are you doing here?"

I tried to shake her off, my eyes wide, pleading with her.

_I can't be recognized._

_I need to escape._

_Please, just let me escape._

Then, over her shoulder, I saw it. I saw the answer to days of evasive sentences, clouded glances, closed doors and discontinued conversations. I saw Bree, her hair loose and flowing over her shoulders, polished and powdered nearly beyond recognition. I saw her dress falling off one shoulder, her eyes gleaming as she moved in – gleaming with passion and life and beauty that I'd never seen in her before – before her lips met his.

_A vampire._

_Her master._

They intertwined, with passion that I could not see in the eyes of any of the other gathered quarry around me. She tilted her head back in a soundless moan as his lips grazed over her collarbone. Her hands disappeared around his neck, his fingers reaching back to unbutton her dress.

In that brief moment, realizing what my friend had hidden from me – what she truly was – it was as though the entire crowded room had moved apart from me. Yes, the watching faces were still present, the voices still audible as, regardless of species, tongues wagged and speculated.

I didn't make a sound.

And yet, Bree looked up, her lips parted in a gleeful, triumphant laugh, and she saw me.

Her mouth fell open. Her eyes widened.

She struggled to speak, to bat away the arms of her oblivious lover, still keen in his lovemaking, still intent on the warm, aching body in his lap. Finally, she half-flew, half-fell from his embrace, and now he looked up, confounded and irritated, and his eyes met mine.

Blood red.

Like James.

Like Jasper.

Like Edward.

_The eyes of a monster._

I was moving even before my brain comprehended my movements. Back I swept, toward the doors, towards any semblance of normalcy I could find, anything familiar that could ground me.

"Bella! Bella, please, come back!"

There were curses, low hissed whispers and harried apologies behind me. Just as I reached for the knob, her hand grabbed hold of mine. Her eyes were desperate, pleading, full of explanations I didn't want to hear. Not now. Not ever.

"Bella, you don't understand," she babbled. "How could you – he's not – you have to listen to me, Bella. Not all of them are the same. Riley – my Riley – he's different…"

I shook her off, opening the door with a trembling hand as I rushed out into the cold corridor. The voices followed after me, mockingly, almost like the spirits escaping Pandora's Box. I had discovered the secret, and I was no happier than I was when I watched from the outside and wondered.

_Betrayed. Betrayed. Betrayed._

My heart thumped as my feet led me farther and farther away from the room, the lights, the life, until I was wandering down meandering corridors with no sense of direction.

Perhaps I should have taken it more reasonably.

It was none of my concern.

Bree hadn't betrayed me.

There was nothing to betray.

My mind was a tangled mess of emotions. I pushed my hand through my hair, wishing that my mind could be as silent as my voice, that for once I could hear something besides my own misgivings. Something other than the suspicion and lack of knowledge that had been engrained in me after years of seclusion from the outside world.

The hand that was laid on my shoulder was unexpected.

"Lost, little Bella? Perhaps I can help you find your way."

My heart stopped.


	18. EPOV Secrets

**A happy New Year, and thank you so much for being patient with the next update. Hadesward sure as Hell hasn't, but RL stops for no one. **

**Mucho, mucho love to my beta-bestie, YellowGlue, for nudging me back into the fandom swing of thing, and everyone's who DMed or tweeted or reviewed and checked up on me when I went AWOL. Hugs and kisses for izzzyysprinkles, who's currently off on another adventure. Miss you, big sis. You guys are the reason I keep writing. **

**I don't own Twilight. If I did, Edward would be dark and dangerous.**

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"_Step inside my parlor, said the spider to the fly_."

Edward chuckled, a low, hoarse sound that was accentuated by the hollow shell of the living room. He could see it hit its mark, the man's face turning an unpleasant yellow as sweat beaded on his forehead, twisting slightly in Tanya's firm grip. The vampire herself looked rather sick. Two birds with one stone, this mission.

He was good at what he did. That was why Jasper had sent him, tonight of all nights - and he was going to prove to the coven exactly what that meant.

"It was…very kind of you to accept our invitation, Alistair. You're a difficult man to find, and I'm sure your time is valuable. That's why I hope you understand why we're here, so we don't have to waste any more time on formalities."

Alistair gulped audibly and gave a single nod.

"E-Edward. I - I know that Jasper has been generous to give me more time, but - "

Edward deliberately kicked at a pile of papers on the stained floor. Alistair's latest rat hole was a disgusting example of the scum of humanity, molded food side by side with manila envelopes and contracts signed in blood. He hated every minute he had to interact with the man from the moment he had met him; a carefully selected, simpering idiot who hung on Jasper's every word.

When you had the power of death in your right hand, it was easy to find brainless fools who'd put their neck on the line first and ask questions later.

Alistair had finally woken up, and now he was going to suffer the consequences of his unconscious promises.

"You were given a project, Alistair… And every project has its deadline. You're way over the red."

"I - I…"

"What do you know about the Pack, Alistair?"

Edward spun on him suddenly, watching with a wicked glee as the man's face contorted, obviously expecting a blow to land on his face. It was easy with humans, to wear them down, make them keep second-guessing their own words to the point of madness. Despite the man's sordid nature and his dealings with the other side of creation, Alistair was no different.

"I - " He swallowed again. "The Pack is a band of werewolves, vigilantes of a sort that specialize in hunting vampires. Quileute blood, a particular tribe of Indians from Washington that carry the gene."

Edward was almost impressed. Perhaps the man did more than vegetate off the coven's reserves. Still, though, this he already knew by his own sources. He waved his hand impatiently.

"Sam Uley is their leader. He has a girlfriend, Leah, that's his beta, and then there's a big guy, tried to punch me once for looking at him funny - his name was biblical…Jonah? Jeremiah?"

The man rushed over his words, eager to prolong his life. Perhaps the poor fool thought he was saving himself.

Tanya's face was paler than usual. Even she knew that blood would be spilled tonight, and Edward was sure she was wondering if his lust would be slacked by the sour-smelling man.

_One step forward._

_One step back._

The longer she guessed, the more her attention would be on him. She would not let Edward out of her sight, her eyes unblinking, gnawing at her lip (_wide brown eyes, teeth sinking into plump plum skin, freesias and strawberries coating his tongue_) as he casually let his sleeve slip upwards, watched the fear dawn in Alistair's eyes and the insensible babbling of apologies, whimpers and pleas for mercy reeling over and over again in his head.

There was never a second chance in agreements with the Whitlock coven.

And Edward was not a merciful man.

"Keep talking, Alistair," he crooned, taking one step closer. The captor and hostage seemed to reel back just so. He could smell Alistair's desperation on his damp boxers, and wrinkled his nose. Humans were just a step above dogs in usefulness, but in death he was the same as everyone else: just another useless piece of shit.

"There's a girl!" Alistair's voice broke through three octaves as he eyed the blade dancing between Edward's fingers. "A girl, not one of them - their adopted sister, parents dead or in the Council. They use her for bait. They know what she is."

The man was nearly insensible, his voice ragged, throat raw. Tanya wasn't even holding him upright. She stared at Edward, eyes almost frightened. For the first time, there was no bluster in her voice.

"Edward," she whispered. "What are you -"

"Go on, Alistair," Edward leaned closer. He could see Alistair's eyes, dilated, rheumy with tears. There was a tinge of iron, bad wine, old perfume in the air - the man had bit down into his tongue. "Tell me what she is."

It seemed as though the human was finally nearing the brink.

"Her blood," he babbled. "It sings… It draws them in and they can't hear reason… Old blood, powerful blood, that's why Sam saved her…"

"Edward…Edward, the assignment was to kill him," Tanya was growing frantic, her eyes shifting between the blade and Edward's darkening eyes.

"We will kill him, Tanya."

His voice was low now, almost sibilant, the voice of a snake charmer luring in his audience. Alistair was silent, whimpering, his eyes darting from side to side as though looking for a way to escape. Hands and knees, completely subservient, bowing to his master.

Just the way Edward wanted it.

"You've seen the girl, Alistair," he murmured, as though in a trance. He knelt to the man's height, watched as the orbs rolled back in his head. Nearly gone. Just one more push, and he'd be done. Edward was anything if not punctual. This was going completely by plan. He could just picture Jasper, that bitch of a sister at his side, leering up at him, pulling deliberately at her skirts as his eyes roved over other women.

And there, in the middle of it all, the cat that would be killed by her own curiosity, her lips parted, that tantalizing, intimate scent of her wafting over other vampires, making their heads turn, tongues flicking out to taste the air -

He tightened his jaw.

_Just a few minutes more._

_And then he would end all other challengers once and for all._

She would be his, completely.

"Where are her protectors now, Alistair?"

The man's chapped lips barely moved.

"Dead," he half-whispered. "Dead and buried. He lost control. They don't listen to a defeated Alpha. He was torn to shreds."

That was probable. He remembered the look in that girl's eyes - Leah - the way she clamped her lips and looked away from her sister's pleading stare. That type of follower would throw their own mother under for her own survival. Sam wouldn't have stood a chance.

"The other Alpha… The boy…?"

_My Bella._

_I'll tear that bloodsucker to shreds for touching her - marring her skin…_

"Ran away…The others in the city don't like their kind. Dead. Dead and forgotten."

Satisfied, Edward rocked back on his heels. Alistair swayed, a delirious look in his eyes.

"Tell me about the girl, Alistair. Tell me why they kept her locked away."

"She was a powerful one," Alistair rasped. His tongue flapped around in his mouth, making a squelching sound that caused Tanya to turn her face away in disgust. Edward almost smirked. _So the whore was picky about who she made eyes at, wasn't she?_

"The blood - came from her mother - the women have the blood…"

"He's spouting nonsense, Edward." In the sudden silence of the room, Tanya's voice was shrill. "Just get rid of him. We've wasted enough time already."

His temper briefly flared, and he whirled on her, watching with a brief satisfaction as she flinched back.

"Remember who gives the orders, Tanya," he snarled.

She bowed her head, but he could see the trembling of her frame. She wasn't completely subdued, not yet.

That didn't matter at the moment, though. He glanced at the clock. Half an hour until midnight. It was time to cut the strings and release the puppet.

"Alistair," he said, in that soft, gentle, so sweet voice. The man's eyes fluttered closed, "you've been so helpful."

"I…never let down a client," he managed.

Edward forced himself to touch that greasy cheek.

"No, my friend," he murmured, and he could see out of the corner of his eyes the sudden release in Tanya's shoulders, the way her eyes darted to the clock with a sort of relief. "You never do."

The blade did its job well. One quick slice, and blood gushed out like manna from the skies. Neither of them would drink of it, poisoned with a life of fear and inhibitions. Alistair, always one to please, lay compliant in his own blood as Edward forced the knife in his stiff hand and stood up.

Tanya stared at him, almost wonderingly.

"She… You… You know what she is."

He allowed himself a brief, cold smile.

_She has no idea._

Brown eyes.

Soft, succulent skin.

Bella.

The perfect target - so innocent, so inviting in her dumpy sweater and those knee socks, one stripe at a time guiding the way up to Heaven. He would taste her there too, in time, once the suitors had been rid of and Odysseus took control of his rightful throne.

Seemingly emboldened by his lack of response, Tanya continued, her voice rising, "You knew. When Jasper sent you here, you knew - and you didn't tell him."

"My loyalty doesn't lie with Jasper, Tanya," he murmured, gathering the papers from underneath Alistair's leg. The evidence - transcripts, forged identities, secrets of a world that humans dreamed about and glanced hesitantly into their closets - would be taken care of. His job here was done. "You of all people should understand that."

She bared her teeth.

"Jasper has her, you know. All your plotting, and you left the fucking little tease right where he could get at her."

Her words didn't daunt him. Let her think what she wanted. He took the cigarette lighter out from his pocket, let the flame catch the corner of the papers, and watched them burn within his hand. It was a game he liked to play, watching the only weapon that could kill him licking away right within his clutched fingers. It licked at the ice, and he could almost imagine it melted slightly beneath the fierce heat.

_Jasper's face, draining away like a child's ice cream cone._

_Those eyes that dared to glance at what was his - never again._

"He'll kill her!" Tanya's fists were balled at her sides. That face that even he had once found appealing, if only for the idea of those seemingly perfect lips wrapped around his cock, was twisted in frustration. "And he'll kill you."

He turned to her, a smirk on his lips, and he walked towards her. He could see when her temporary bravado wore off, as she backed herself against the wall. The fear came off her, thick, cloying - but there was arousal too, sickly-sweet, tempting as it wafted around her, drawing him forward.

So predictable. The little bitch liked to be dominated.

"You know what I'm capable of, Tanya," he breathed against her neck. A little moan was torn from her lips. "You've seen me in action. Do you really think that your lover will stand a chance?"

"Jasper - the coven is on his side." She took in a quick intake of breath as his hand glided over her chest. There was nothing about her that appealed to him now (_soft, shallow breaths, mahogany hair wrapped around his fist, eyes begging for him to touch her, kiss her, come inside her_), just the familiar spark of masculine satisfaction and a stirring in his groin as the predator in him responded to her submission.

"Yes…that's what he thinks, isn't it?"

He dropped his hand and moved away, breaking the spell. She realized what had happened, the sense of rejection sinking in her mind like a weight before the curses began, harsh-edged and fiery, a woman's self-instinct protecting her from disappointment.

Alice didn't have anything to worry about.

Not that she would after tonight.

"Come now, Tanya," he chuckled as the woman stared at him with furious eyes and parted lips. "You won't want to miss the rest of this performance."

"He'll kill you."

"Perhaps he will. In either case, I know you're dying to see how it ends."

Alistair's body marinated in the blood. Edward could hear sirens in the distance. Without a word, Tanya bolted for the window, vaulting herself outside into the night air without a second thought.

Let her run to her precious fuck. Jasper's reign had come to an end. It was time for the prince to take his rightful position.

Without another glance at his victim, the ruler of Hades fled.


End file.
